


Vampires Mate for Life

by thwax



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Sibling Incest, Vampire Sex, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-22
Updated: 2016-06-22
Packaged: 2018-07-16 11:23:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 38,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7266133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thwax/pseuds/thwax
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean meets up with an old foe, Kate, who is bent on revenge. However, Kate does not bargain for the Winchester survival instinct.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One Mistake

**Author's Note:**

> This is based on season 1 Winchesters and follows on from the car crash at the end of season 1.

“Dean, take it easy!” Sam called after Dean, who was striding rapidly out of the hospital. “The doctor said you need to rest.”

“I am not resting while that demon is still on the loose,” Dean turned and hissed back; two weeks was too long to spend on your backside in bed and he was more than ready to do some damage to the nasty about which he’d been brooding since waking up in hospital.

Dean waited for Sam to finish the distance between them, but he could see reasonable in his brother’s expression, and he wasn’t ready to do reasonable, so he glowered at the approach.

“You’re no good to us like this, you can’t even hold a gun,” Sam pointed out, tapping the plaster cast on Dean’s right arm.

Dean glanced down at the encumbrance and grimaced; if it wasn’t bad enough that the damn thing itched like hell and his wrist was aching, that it got in the way of payback was a bitch. Sam was still looking far too sanctimonious for Dean’s liking and he could hear the unspoken ‘cluck, cluck’ coming his way before his brother told him, “Look, I rented us a house for while Dad gets better. He’s going to be in traction for a month and then he’ll need bed rest. We’ll have to look after him.”

“Very domestic of you, Sammy,” Dean snarked petulantly.

Sam frowned then, and Dean was just in the mood for a fight, but the things he had to say were not the kind of things you could yell in front of a public building, so he turned from the whiny face that would set him off and marched towards the truck.

“Dean!” Sam objected.

This was going to get moany if Dean didn’t do something quick, so he decided to go on the offensive.

“Have you spoken to anyone, done any research, got back on this thing’s trail?” he began, big brother authority in his tone.

“No,” Sam sounded instantly defensive and Dean turned on him again.

Dean stepped right up to his taller sibling and charged hotly, “This thing killed Mum and Jess and nearly killed us all and you let its trail go cold?!”

Dean saw the flash in Sam’s eyes as he tipped over the edge and he was ready when his brother yelled into his face, “You could have died too, Dean, you and Dad both. I wasn’t going to leave you alone.”

Sam’s voice spiralled down at the end of his admission, and his stare was far too needy for Dean. The reminder of his own mortality was also not welcome, and so Dean looked away, back to their destination. The truck was shiny and modern and economic, but, as he ran his gaze over its functional lines, Dean felt a pang of loss for the Impala. The car had been the only fatality from the crash, and Dean thought he knew what the cowboys in the old westerns had been feeling when they lost their horse. Dean’s bad mood spread rapidly to the offered mode of transport, and so he dropped his bag at Sam’s feet and told him, “I need some air. See you at the house.”

Dean was already stalking off when Sam called incredulously, “But you don’t even know the address.”

Dean grabbed his cell phone from his pocket, waved it in the air without looking behind him and returned, “I’ll call, Mom.”

* * *

Urban sprawl provided an anonymity that Dean needed. In a few blocks, the clinging flesh-creep that had accompanied his fight with Sam was gone, and Dean’s head was clearing. It had cleared enough that he’d realised he was going to have to do some apologising when he found the house, but he still wasn’t ready. Sam had been doing what he could since he’d limped out of hospital himself, and Dean had been grateful for a familiar face when he had woken up from the partially demon-induced coma that had kept him out for three days, but there were times when his little brother went far too touchy-feely for Dean’s taste.

Dean didn’t want to be in touch with his feelings right then, they were too dark and too many and he’d rather have found a nasty and blasted it to kingdom come. Yet there were no ghosts or monsters conveniently sitting on the sidewalk, and all the equipment was back in the truck, so Dean had to settle for walking away his nightmares.

He didn’t know the area, and, uncharacteristically, Dean took a risk and let himself get lost. It was only as the sun set that he realised he was in the part of town where the street lamps were all busted and you didn’t want to look vulnerable. Dean never looked vulnerable, in fact, even with the cast on his arm, or maybe because of it, people stepped out of his way as he strode purposefully down the street. 

His dad had bred a hunter, and, despite a fixed gaze ahead, Dean’s senses were on alert over his surroundings. He’d spotted the guy with the switchblade before he stepped out of the shadows, and he came to a halt ten yards off. Dean didn’t like regretting his decisions, it could lead to self doubt, and that wasn’t useful, but he was beginning to reconsider his choice of neighbourhood when the dirty, leather-clad would-be assailant moved towards him.

Dean looked the guy up and down: he could take him, no problem, but he didn’t want a fight. His arm was aching and his chest was still sore, and Sam would kill him if he came back with more injuries.

“Evenin’,” Dean greeted evenly, holding his arms out away from his body passively.

The dirtbag just sniggered and flicked his knife a couple of times.

“You ought to be careful with that, you could have someone’s eye out,” Dean gave up on passive, this was going to be a fight.

Humour was not this nut job’s strong point, and his face hardened, the knife being held out now, and he demanded, “Wallet and phone.”

“No wallet,” Dean patted his empty jeans, “and my brother gets pissy if he can’t call me.”

“Phone, now,” the thief threatened immediately, waving the knife about in such a way that Dean assessed he was at least drunk, if not high.

“You don’t want to do this,” Dean warned, knowing he was going to be ignored, but some of Sammy’s boy-scout attitude rubbing off on him anyway.

The guy lunged, Dean sidestepped and added to his attacker’s momentum past him with a kick to the arse. A lamp post wasn’t the best way to stop, but it did the trick as the inept attacker crashed into it. Dean winced as he heard the thud and the man’s groan, but that didn’t mean he dropped his guard. He was ready when the guy shook himself, turned and charged at him again. Even left-handed, Dean easily grabbed the thief’s wrist, twisted enough to disarm and then sent the guy sailing back into the shadows from which he had come.

Not a scratch: Dean bent to pick up the knife with a sense of satisfaction. However, as he was straightening with his prize, Dean heard a muffled cry that was definitely a man in pain, and his fingers tightened around the hilt in his hand. His mugger had not come back out of the dingy alcove and Dean’s attention centred on it, his hackles rising with inbred instincts.

More muffled complaints and then a sickening crack that sounded pretty fatal. Dean was not surprised when the thief’s body fell forward out of the darkness, sprawling very dead across the sidewalk, and he managed a flicker of pity for a life lost, but he was more interested in what had taken that life. A knife wasn’t much against most of the creatures he had hunted in the past, but it was better than nothing, so Dean shifted his body into attack mode, adrenaline beginning to pump through his system in a way that no natural attacker could inspire.

The shadows moved, and Dean squinted into the darkness, trying to make out anything as early as possible. Over the years, he had learnt not to trust appearances, and so he did not relax at all when he realised the something in the alcove was shorter than him. A moment later, a creeping chill of recognition ran through Dean as the figure moved into the dim light of the main street.

“Kate,” he greeted, covering any qualms with his usual offhand smile. “Couldn’t stay away, eh?”

The vampire just smiled at that and stalked forward. Dean took a couple of steps backward and scanned the area for a bolt hole, since blood sucker versus barely armed human was not good odds. However, Kate was not alone, and Dean found out when deceptively delicate hands grabbed his arms and he was flanked by what remained of Luthor’s pack. Normally being surrounded by three pretty girls was Dean’s idea of heaven, especially if they were all interested in him, but the glint in Kate’s eyes as she walked all the way up to him was anything but inviting.

“Hello, Dean,” she began, her smile growing in confidence.

Then she glanced down at the knife in his left hand and pouted, continuing, “Not quite a machete, is it?”

“Needs must,” Dean shrugged and then survival told him to at least try to get a slice at her neck while he could.

He flexed, but the hold on his arm was like cast iron, and all he succeeded in doing was drawing a tut from the blond bitch whose name he had never known.

“Naughty, naughty, Dean,” Kate wagged her finger at him and then nodded to her subordinate as she explained, “Now we can’t have you playing with sharp implements, you might cut yourself.”

Blondie began squeezing his wrist and hand, and quite quickly it grew painful. Dean winced and held onto the knife as long as possible, but given its usefulness, it wasn’t worth breaking his only good wrist, so, with a huff, he dropped the weapon in Kate’s waiting hand. The pressure eased up and Dean relaxed a moment, knowing his odds of fighting off three vampires was miniscule.

“Well I know it’s not my charm that brought you here,” he fell back on quips to boost his morale.

Kate was looking into his eyes again, and it was disconcerting to see the power that lay behind them, but Dean stared right back. Survival made him flinch when the point of the knife tested the skin at the base of his throat, but he steadied himself and tried to hide the fact that his heart was beating furiously.

“You and yours killed Luthor,” Kate announced: as if he needed reminding! “I want you to pay.”

The knife was sharp and Dean’s breath caught in his throat as it punctured his flesh. He defied the pain and its perpetrator, glaring at Kate as she began to run the blade down his chest, slicing buttons on his shirt as she went. However, it hurt and he couldn’t stop all his reaction, which came out in catches of guttural sound. Only when Kate dropped her eyes to her handiwork did Dean look as well, and there was a bleeding line from his breastbone to his navel. He saw the vampire’s teeth descend and that was when Dean began to struggle. He would have yelled out to the dark street for help, but one of the others clamped a hand over his face and forced his head back as Kate leant in to him. Warm, damp tongue flicked against his chest, and anywhere else, Dean would have been in ecstasy, but as his blood was lapped up, he shuddered, sick to his stomach. 

Kate did not test him too long. When she drew back, there was blood on her lips and she was smiling.

“You taste good, Dean,” she told him.

The bitch sounded far too pleased with herself, but all Dean could do was make a muffled objection while he thought expletives and indignation.

“What’s the matter, Baby, you don’t like donating?” Kate leant in and whispered intimately. “Well, get used to it.”

Dean saw the fist flying at him only soon enough to flinch before the silencing palm was replaced by Kate’s very efficient right hook. The dark world went very bright and then retreated.

* * *

Waking up in the claws of a beast was always a bitch, but when that nasty had it in for you personally, Dean learnt it was even worse. He went from blackness to, well, blackness, but his eyes were open, as something astringent stung the insides of his nose and made him cough. He reared away from the strong smell, but very quickly came up against the fact that he was tied up. His momentum nearly took over the chair in which he was restrained, but someone grabbed his shoulders and forced the front legs back to ground. 

That was the only positive thing that his captors offered, because suddenly there was a bright light shining in Dean’s eyes and a hand, probably feminine by it’s size and feel, began tapping him across the face.

“You back with us, Baby?” Kate revealed her identity, and Dean squinted at her outline in front of the light.

“Don’t call me Baby,” Dean snarked back, sore and angry and determined to hold onto whatever dignity he had left.

Kate laughed, Dean decided to strain the ropes on his arms; someone else laughed behind him, actually two other people and Dean realised he was once again surrounded by the girls. He relaxed his elbows back onto the arms of the chair and glared at where he thought Kate’s eyes were.

“I tie tight, Honey, you’re not going anywhere,” one of the other girls told him, and another set of fingers played round his collar from behind as Kate stepped away for a moment.

Dean had been scared before, he’d been in the shit before, but he’d seen the state of those who had made up the vampires’ larder when he had freed them last time, and being lunch sent chills up and down his spine. Yet, he wasn’t going to show his fear to these monsters, even if they could hear his heart thundering in his chest, so he gripped the arm rests and set his jaw hard.

“It’s time to pay up, Dean,” Kate spoke from the shadows, her voice icy, and someone beside her, male, Dean thought, sniggered. “We’ll start with the interest.”

Dean was still wearing his denim shirt, even if it didn’t have any buttons left, but with Kate’s leave, the other girls grabbed his collar and pulled the cloth off his shoulders. Dean tensed as the vampire than walked back up to him and slid herself onto his lap, wrapping her legs under the arms of the chair and round his body. Dean had done this with women before, but as the light moved around to the side of them, Dean could see that this one was smiling coldly and despite the sexually charged tease, it was all dominance.

“Pity we’re on different sides,” Kate told him, grabbing him harshly by the chin and lifting his profile to the light, “I could have appreciated you.”

“I thought I told you I don’t go in for necrophilia,” Dean quipped back.

The slap that stung across his cheek was not unexpected: one nil to him, even if the retort was old, he’d use what he had. He kept his face low, away from the light where the smack had left him, and hastily licked away the salty taste of blood on his lip where flesh had caught tooth. However, vampire senses proved better than that, and Dean had no choice when Kate stuck her fingers into his cheeks and dragged him back into view of what Dean had concluded was a camera.

“I smell fresh blood,” Kate drooled, and her teeth were down again.

Dean tried to keep his mouth shut, but the squeeze of fingers pushed out his lips. He froze as the animal closed the distance between them and then shuddered afresh as Kate’s tongue flicked out and tasted him again. Dean strained his neck muscles to try and back off, but he was held fast, and soon Kate’s mouth was on his. He didn’t respond at all to the kiss, but that didn’t stop the dominatrix as she made a few more puncture marks on his lips and lapped at the new wounds.

Eventually, Kate let go and Dean turned away as rapidly as possible, breathing hard and spitting away the metallic taste in his mouth.

“That’s not very polite,” Kate chided.

“Show me a lady and I’ll be polite,” Dean snarled back, failing to stay out of the light again, but this time because whoever was holding it re-angled over him.

Dean wondered if he was going to get another slap, but at first he did not realise his captor had chosen a different response to his retort. The reason he didn’t know was because she had grabbed the cast on his wrist, and it was only as it began to crumble under her grip that Dean noticed anything. At first it was just a rubbing on his skin, but then the cast began to give way and shards of broken plaster dug into his arm. Dean tensed as the aching in his wrist gained a new dimension and then very swiftly rocketed to full blown agony as mending bone broke afresh. He gritted his teeth, breathing rapidly in and out of his nose: he would not scream, but, in the end, he did. Bright spots danced in front of his eyes, and the grinding pain ran up Dean’s arm. Dean struggled, trying to get away from the source of the hurt, but Kate persisted and all he could do was yell his pain and anger. 

Kate sliding back off him was Dean’s first indication that she had stopped her assault, as the agony only slowly fell away to manageable levels, leaving him shaking and disoriented by the aftermath. He shied away from the bright, intrusive beam of the camera as it moved in, taking close-ups, and closed his eyes, trying to settle away from the attack. But there were hands still on him, the other female vampires pawing his shoulders, and one of them lifted his head and displayed the pain on his face that he couldn’t hide. What was worse was that they were giggling to each other as they showed him off.

“Smile for the camera, Baby,” Kate taunted.

“Go to hell,” Dean managed a retort, but it was only a hiss.

* * *

Someone let go of his hair, Dean didn’t know who, and he couldn’t hold the weight of his head, so his chin came to rest on his chest. He dragged air into his lungs slowly and painfully: it felt like every bone in his body had been broken and to top it off, his skin was lacerated just about everywhere as well and his clothing was red with his own blood. He didn’t have any more quips for the ladies who had introduced him to new levels of agony, he just wanted it to be over. Yet, Kate had other ideas, and she was in his lap again, which hurt like hell.

“Are you all tuckered, out, Dean? Look at me, Baby,” she taunted: if he obeyed, he was subservient, if he didn’t, he was weak, either way, Dean knew he wasn’t going to win, so he decided to try and look away instead.

Fingers caught his chin again, and this time, Dean didn’t resist, he let his face be lifted into the light. His eyes were half blind with punches and he blinked, trying to clear it and get a better look at the creature that was tormenting him.

“You’re an impressive son of a bitch, I’ll give you that. What do I have to do to make you beg, Dean?” she asked, sounding horribly whimsical.

Dean didn’t reply, his throat was sore and dry from screaming, and he couldn’t think clearly enough to form a quip. He just stared back at her, letting her see that he would never beg for his life, or his death.

“I know what we haven’t tried,” the vampire smiled widely, displaying her hunting teeth.

Dean barely had the energy to flinch now, and he was easy prey as Kate pushed his head to one side and went for his jugular. Teeth ripped into his flesh and Dean tensed reactively with what was left of his strength, but only a gurgle came out of his mouth, in which, he heard his own demise. The pain had all formed into one all over his body, and the increase was minor compared with the terrible sensation that began to draw away his life.

The world began to fade gratifyingly fast, and Dean’s only consolation was that he had gone to his grave defiant of these beasts. He thought of Sammy as he struggled to breathe, and it was more for him than himself that Dean felt grief and fear that these things would go after him next. Then, even those thoughts began to drift away as everything became heady and the camera light finally went out. Dean didn’t even notice that Kate had stopped her feed, not until she leant close to him and whispered, “Now I’ve broken you, Baby, I’m going to fix you.”

“No,” Dean whispered as that dreadful possibility made it through to him, but he was silenced as damp, metallic flesh was placed against his mouth.

He couldn’t turn away, he couldn’t do anything and the vampire’s blood trickled into Dean’s mouth. He tried not to drink, held the liquid in his mouth as long as he could, but his dry throat convulsed reactively and horror ran through Dean’s mind as the power entered his body.


	2. Out of the Frying Pan...

Sam reached the wall of the living room, spun on his heel and paced back the other way: it was two in the morning and Dean had not called. Sam had been back to the hospital to see if there was any sign of his brother, he’d also scouted the local neighbourhoods, but there had been no sign, and Dean wasn’t answering his phone. It wasn’t the first time Dean had been out all night, or the first time he’d turned off his phone, but that hadn’t been so recently after a demon attack. Sam had only been back in the house a few minutes as he regrouped and decided what to do next, but the living room carpet was suffering as he was somewhere between wanting to string up his big brother or hug him if he walked in through the door.

The last year had beaten any optimism out of Sam, and despite trying to think clearly, his imagination did not need much help from experience to be running on alarming overdrive. He wanted this to be about a girl, god, he really needed this to be about some chick Dean had picked up in a bar, but Sam’s well-honed instincts were aiming more for something bad.

When he heard the front door rattle, Sam’s heart jumped into his throat, and he grabbed the revolver he’d left on the table before he dashed into the hall. He heard a woman’s laughter from outside, and he raised the weapon, slowing up and stalking towards the door. Cautiously, Sam undid the three locks he’d had installed on the wooden panel, and then, stepping back, he swung open the door, ready to fire at anything coming through. However, Sam froze facing an empty doorstep.

Sam leant out of the door, gun first, and scanned the immediate area, but everything was quiet, just another suburban neighbourhood, and his heart sank back into his boots. Yet, then Sam glanced down at the mat, and alarm bells went off again as he saw a blank, padded envelope lying there. With a last, suspicious look at the quiet night, Sam grabbed the small packet and retreated inside.

Packaging went everywhere as Sam threw caution to the wind, and he was left holding a DVD case. He opened the plain black box more slowly, and inside was a disc, with the words written on it, ‘Play me’. Sam was confused and worried: this was a Meg style of trick, but she was dead and there had been no sign of their demon since it had fled. Rapidly, he ran upstairs to his room, where he had left his computer on the desk, opened the DVD drive and slipped the disc in. Then, biting his lip, but holding on to his fears, Sam sunk into his chair and watched a movie start up.

Sam’s heart missed a beat as he recognised Kate smiling out at him, and then he was told, “Sam Winchester, watch and learn.”

The vampire turned away and the scene cut to a longer shot, and with horror, Sam saw Dean unconscious in a chair, being displayed by the other two vampires that had made their escape after Luthor had been killed.

“Shall we wake him up, Sam?” Kate was speaking to the camera, and as she walked forward, there was a swishing sound and it all went dark.

Sam heard his brother draw in a deep breath and then he saw him confused and helpless, dazzled by a new, bright light that came on from behind the camera. In dread, Sam hit the pause button and slid his chair back from the computer: was this going to be a snuff flick, or was there more of a point to it? He didn’t want to watch Dean being murdered by their enemies, but he had been taught to use anything as information and this was more than he’d had all night. Knowing he had to watch, but unwilling to prolong the show any more than he had to, Sam leant forward and clicked on the fast forward.

Sticking his fist into his mouth and biting hard was the only way Sam could watch the scene before him unfold. His emotions started with horror and fear for his brother, but as he saw Dean beaten down, that fear turned in the pit of his stomach and became a protective anger. As his hatred of what he was seeing developed, only years of lectures about objectivity from his father stopped Sam from picking up the laptop and throwing it at the wall. He wasn’t sure how long the clearly uncut film took to run through, even in fast forward, but it was enough time for him to be feeling sick and mad with rage. Yet, when the image of Dean disappeared abruptly just as the vampire bitch went for him, Sam wanted more. 

Sam grabbed the computer then, ready to hit buttons to see if he could find any evidence of what had happened next. Yet he did not have long to wait as the black became another close up of Kate. Sam rapidly hit the regular play button as he recognised blood on the smiling woman’s lips; Dean’s blood.

“Quite a show your brother put up, eh, Sam?” Kate was speaking directly to him and even recorded, she rooted Sam to the spot with his own anxiety for Dean. 

“That was just the start.” 

Sam heard his own breath rush out of his body in a mockery of relief: Dean could still be alive.

“It’s not Dean who killed my Luthor,” the vampire continued, and her face hardened in a snarl. “I want John Winchester. You bring me Daddy and your brother lives. You have till tomorrow night.”

Then the DVD really did come to an end and Sam slumped back into his chair, stuck between a rock and a vampire.

* * *

Brooding would do no good, but Sam spent a good ten minutes just staring at the front picture of the film to which the computer player had returned, his brain turning over, but producing nothing but emotion. Yet none of the Winchesters were quitters, and as Sam glared at the unmoving image of Kate about to speak, something in the back of his enraged thoughts was still seeing. Not really knowing why, but on instinct, Sam hit the play button again. He didn’t listen to what Kate was saying this time, he just watched the image, through the front message and then when it went dark. As soon as Dean woke, he hit the stop: he’d missed it, he knew, and so Sam went back to the beginning and played it again. 

Something was nagging at his visual instincts, and Sam had learnt to trust his instincts. He didn’t know what it was until he clicked play yet again, and then it hit him. Sam smashed the pause button and moved in closer to the laptop. The previous time through, Sam had noted that the room had been initially lit by a mixture of lights, including a strong green one coming from somewhere outside, he guessed, and only when it had gone away, accompanied by the swishing sound, had the bright camera light been used. He’d come to the conclusion the sound was curtains being closed.

Now, Sam could see the source of the green light, well, as least the reflection of its source in Kate’s highly reflective eyes. He squinted at the screen, screwing up his vision to see if the pattern he could see meant anything. Yet, he could only make out what he thought was a word. 

However, a computer accessible image was one that could be manipulated, and Sam was not giving up, not with all the anger that was trapped in his chest. Swiftly, he went about grabbing a frame and zoomed into the picture. The close-up of the vampire came even closer and Sam focused his attention on one eye. The writing was still distorted and blurred, but it was five or six letters, he thought, began with a ‘P’ and there was an ‘l’ in it as well. At that, Sam slammed the computer shut and went for where he had stored the Winchester arsenal: how many places could there be in this town near a green sign containing those attributes?

* * *

Dean drifted alone in a miasma of unfamiliar sensation; his mind had flipped out to a safe place after a few moments of knowledge that there was no stopping the power that was inside him and that he was changing with it. His mind and body were high and low at the same time, bones mending hurt like hell and his senses were shifting out of control, but all of it was accompanied by an incredible rush that made his heart thunder in his chest: he was certainly not dying, but life had suddenly become very strange.

He had felt the others, all around him, and the unnatural instincts developing in his body had reached out to them, but they were all gone now, he was alone, and that felt bad. He had known the pack for only minutes, but he had sensed family, the same, something to which to cling in the frightening shifts that his brain could not really follow. Now he was lonely and still frightened and confused by everything.

The sound of wood sliding on wood woke Dean a little and he lifted his head. The dark world around him was swimming as every shadow had its own hue. He could see the curtains moving, and the breath of air that touched his face dimmed the disorientation a little, but what made him wake more was as he took in that wave of air and smelt life. The scent spoke directly to the changes in his body and Dean couldn’t help himself, he began to salivate.

However, part of him recognised that scent as more than prey, and although he was blinded by unexpected artificial light when the drapes parted, he knew the person who was climbing in through the window was Sam. Dean tensed against the bonds that still held him as the memory of a brother and the new instincts of a night crawler clashed and he knew he was dangerous.

“Is’trap,” he managed, his words running into each other as the disorientation stopped him from being more coherent.

“Shh,” Sam hissed immediately, and seemed not to have understood the warning, because he strode quickly over to Dean’s position and knelt down in front of him, reaching for the ropes.

“Nn,” Dean tried again as the closeness of a human being set off sensations that he could not control.

His gums ached and his gut burnt, and Dean shied away from Sam’s touch, knowing there was more to come.

“Ge’way, Sam,” he warned, part of him struggling with the bonds to be as far away from his brother as possible and the rest of him starving for the life under his nose.

Sam was still taking no notice, he had a knife to the ropes, speeding his own demise, and Dean knew he would not have much longer to sound the alarm.

“Sit still, I might cut you,” Sam whispered urgently, slicing through the rope on Dean’s right wrist.

Dean’s reaction was mainly automatic: vampire smelt prey and as he felt his teeth cut through his gums for the first time, Dean swiped out at Sam and caught him in a vice-like grip around the throat.

“I’m the trap,” he snarled, the last vestiges of humanity slipping away.

Sam looked up into his eyes, shock in his face, and Dean almost felt something, maybe pity, but it was too late, he was hungry. Sam struggled, trying to pull away, arms flailing to his sides, but Dean had a choke hold on his windpipe. He came to a halt after only a few seconds, and Dean saw profound sadness in his gaze: he knew he was going to die. Yet, it didn’t matter, only filling the hole in his belly mattered, and Dean opened him mouth, pulling his victim towards him.

Suddenly, a sharp pain in his arm made Dean halt his attack, and in shock, he let go of Sam and looked down at the source of the hurt. Sam’s hand was clutched around a hypodermic, which was sticking in his bicep and there were the last traces of a dark red stain in the tube.

“Sorry, Bro,” Sam whispered hoarsely, pain in his voice, and then Dean felt weakness course through his body out from the wound.

A moment of euphoria swept through the emerging vampire and he was proud of his little brother as he concluded it was dead man’s blood in the syringe, and then Dean collapsed forward into Sam’s waiting hold.

* * *

It had been too long, was Dean ever going to wake up? Sam stood at the end of the bed and watched the face of his brother closely for any signs of rousing. He bit his lip guiltily as he ran his gaze over the pair of leather belts and extra pieces of ply he’d added to the bedstead so that he could fix Dean in place. Sam’s instincts were on high alert, and not just the hunter ones that his dad had bred, the ones that he didn’t fully understand were sending shivers up and down his spine every time they concentrated on the unconscious body in front of him. He had no idea what was going to wake up with Dean’s face, and that scared him, but Sam could not bring himself to do what his father would have deemed right; he couldn’t kill his own brother out of hand. The fact that Sam had allowed Dean to walk off into the night also sat heavy with him.

Sam had gone into automatic after knocking out the creature who had tried to warn him of the attack as it had happened, and he had set up the bed to be strong enough to hold Dean, but now he just stood watching, at a loss for what to do next. Dean was the one who usually made the snap decisions, and Sam desperately wanted his brother back, even if the pessimism at the back of his mind told him it was too late.

Dean moved, his brow creasing in discomfort and Sam’s heart jumped into his throat. He steadied himself, trying to be prepared for anything, but he was hanging on to the foot board so tightly his knuckles went white. He could barely breathe as Dean’s lids flicked open and he groaned. Dean flexed, something of the last moments of waking on his face if Sam guessed right, and when he came up against different bonds, Sam saw more focus swim into Dean’s eyes than had been there at the old Palace Motel where he had found him.

As expected, Dean tested the bonds, a growl in his throat that Sam had heard before, and the man who relaxed, realising his own limitations, could have been his brother, but the messages from his head and his heart were so conflicted that Sam could not tell.

“Sam?” Dean blinked a couple more times and looked around himself. “Sammy, what are you doing?”

“Saving your ass,” Sam snapped back, defensive because he knew what was coming.

“I’m a vampire, Sam, you should have snuffed me by now,” his brother chastised, and part of Sam knew he was right.

“You tried to warn me,” Sam cut back with the only ray of hope he had.

“Then I tried to have you for dinner,” Dean snarled, testing his bonds again.

Sam took a step back as he felt something that his instincts told him was bad; what his eyes saw was his brother grimace and the second set of vampire teeth descend.

“I’m a monster, Sammy,” Dean sounded in pain and angry, but Sam wasn’t sure about what he was protesting, “and I’m hungry.”

There was a vampire lying on Dean’s bed, at his mercy, and all of his training told Sam to kill it while he had the chance, but that creature had Dean’s face and a lot of his brother’s personality if the lecture was anything to go by. Sam’s head and heart were in battle, and his supernatural instincts just added to the melee. He needed Dean, he wasn’t ready to lose him, not so soon after Jess, and Sam made a very sudden choice with which his head could not keep pace; Sam sidestepped the end of the bed, passed down its length in a stride and then sat down next to his brother. He ripped up his shirt cuff and then held out his wrist to the hunger in front of him.

Dean did not hesitate, as soon as flesh was within his reach, he put his head forward and bit savagely into Sam’s arm. The pain ran straight to his brain, but Sam clamped down on any reaction as more than just his nerve centres fired at the powerful bite. Sam’s mind exploded with impressions: emotions – fear, satisfaction, hate; sensation – pain and deep need. He could not control it and he groaned more with the weight of the input than the teeth in his arm. Yet he fixed his muscles, determined not to pull away.

Sam lost time as Dean fed, and it was Dean who broke the lock that sent his mind spinning. Dean was gasping as he turned his face away from the fresh wound and ordered, “Get away from me, Sammy, before I hurt you.”

Sam’s muscles unlocked at the command, and they were like water. He obeyed his big brother, but only managed to slide off the bed, landing in a bemused crumple on the floor. For a long time, Sam just stared at the tear in the underside of his forearm.

* * *

Watching his brother walk back into his bedroom from his own bathroom fastening a large dressing over the wound he had caused was a very uncomfortable experience for Dean. He didn’t like being tied to the bed, and he didn’t like the reason he was tied to the bed either, and it made him frosty as he rebuked again, “You should have killed me, Sam.”

Sam, however, since he had picked himself up off the floor, had been looking much more in control than Dean felt, and the stare he was given told Dean he was not going to get his way anytime soon. Sam stopped at the end of the bed and his lips were pursed in the annoying way he had about him when he disagreed, but was finding a good argument.

“Are you still hungry?” he asked.

“Not relevant,” Dean snapped back, shifting against the ties on his wrists awkwardly.

Sam just raised his eyebrows and Dean knew he was going to have to answer or put up with some whining.

“No,” he admitted grudgingly.

“Then we have some time to figure this out,” Sam announced superiorly.

Dean’s own emotions were all over the place: he was glad to be alive, but he knew it was wrong, and his anger at the injustice of that boiled over at his brother as he yelled, “God dammit, Sam, that bitch did for me. I’m a vampire, there’s nothing to figure out.”

Sam’s face hardened at that and Dean saw the walls go up.

“Look, I spent half the night tracking down that motel and I don’t intend to give up as easily as you. I’m going to try and research us out of the mess you got yourself into,” Sam told him, biting off his words. “The sun’s coming up, so get some sleep.”

With that, his brother was gone, and Dean was left staring at the space where he had been, not really knowing what to think. His senses were settling from the mess they had been in the motel, but they weren’t the ones he was used to. The curtains were closed, but the pale light coming from under them was brighter than it should have been. He could still hear Sam’s annoyed breathing as he walked down the hall away from the bedroom, and what was worse, Dean could still sense mortal life close by and it ran in his veins like a drug: he knew he was already addicted. 

Dean’s heart was pumping, really fast, and he knew he was only a hair’s breadth from panic. He was a vampire, he was a goddamn, night-crawling vampire and there was nothing he could do about it. Dean Winchester had never felt so helpless.


	3. ...and Into the Fire.

Sam rolled over onto his back under the light cover of his bed, exhaustion keeping him in a doze, but too many thoughts threatening to take him out of it again. He was so close to waking that his brain was making frightening sense as all the research he had done and the scouting of the town mixed up with the birth of the monster he had witnessed the previous night. He whined as the image of Dean, all teeth and danger kept his other senses awake, pushing them further than consciousness could sustain. He had not only seen, he had felt the vampire awaken, he knew that in his dreams, even if his waking brain would not admit it, and, even more, he had connected with the night power there.

Sam had mourned his brother in that moment, but other feelings had risen from his belly, emotions neither sane, nor acceptable, and they had grown further when Dean had fed. Sam moaned this time, partly in denial and partly in admiration as his erection pressed against the sheet. The power that Dean had become had reached right into the skills that scared and intoxicated Sam, and they ran free as their owner slept. He was vampire bait in more ways than one, and the sleeper knew it, no denial working on his subconscious. 

The conflict of supernatural desire and human sense brought Sam even further out of his doze, and his eyes opened for a second, before closing again, but it was the real connection with vampire power, not the remembered one that brought Sam all the way from sleep. He opened his eyes with a start and glared up at the ceiling, the feel of his body and the cold sweat not making sense as reality tried to cover the pique. Yet, the left-over strangeness would not disperse and in another heartbeat, Sam knew why.

It wasn’t much of a sound from the corner, the shift of denim on paint, but Sam’s alarm bells fired and he sat up rapidly, looking straight into the shadows by his door. He froze, caught out by his own reactions, as he laid eyes on Dean standing lazily in the gloom and his body stood to attention. It was embarrassing and frightening, and Sam was caught.

“All this getting you excited, Sammy?” Dean asked, his voice rich with a burr that Sam had never heard before.

Sam felt his cheeks grow hot, and he looked away, down at the floor, very unsure of himself.

“You know, you were moaning my name,” the voice was closer this time, and Sam glanced up at Dean, who was now standing in the centre of the room.

Survival instincts kicked in as at least part of Sam realised with what he was dealing, and his already awakened skills came to his rescue. With one thought, the curtains ripped open and evening sunshine streamed into the room. Dean very rapidly backed off into the gloomy corner where he had been lurking. However, as Sam was trying to deal with the aftermath of what he had done, as usual searching for how it had happened, Dean surprised him with that same, deep burr, saying, “That wasn’t friendly Sammy, but your mojo, what a rush. Does it turn you on too?”

Sam didn’t really want to contemplate the implications of Dean’s tone, nor admit that his arousal was showing no signs of dissipating, so, safe in the beams of light, he said nothing.

“I felt it when you fed me, Sammy,” Dean continued smoothly, “but when you actually used it; you give a hell of a kick.”

Sam still had no answer for himself, let alone Dean.

“You feel it as well, don’t you, Sammy?” the taunting persisted, but Sam could neither deny nor submit to the power he could indeed sense on the other side of the room. “You can feel me.”

“Go away,” Sam managed through gritted teeth, but he couldn’t look Dean in the eye.

Dean laughed lightly, standing on the edge of the shadows, hands on his hips and threw back, “If you wanted that, you should keep a machete by the bed. You should have been more careful, I’m dangerous.”

That should have sent Sam diving for the knife that was indeed hidden under his bed, but his only movement was shivers as his skills refused to settle now they had sought out the source of their interest. Dean was – Sam couldn’t define it, but it was mysterious, scary and intoxicating all at the same time.

“I’m not your brother any more, Sammy,” Dean cut the strings holding Sam in sensible reality one by one. “You know that.”

Sam rapidly drew in deep breaths, his mind and pulse racing, and no denial would form. He didn’t dare look at the creature that had him in its snare all the same, as the threads of resistance snapped.

“Sam,” Dean spoke one more time, his voice like honey to the part of Sam that was listening, and with a choke of disbelief, he felt his own skills shifting to his tormentor’s aid.

As quickly as they had opened, the curtains flicked shut and in a heartbeat, Sam found himself flattened back onto the mattress with Dean kneeling over him. Hands clamped onto his wrists, pushing then down either side of his head; Sam reared against the body on top of him, but it was not in resistance, it was in desire, as his senses overloaded with the power that now ran directly from Dean into him.

The pique lasted a few seconds, and then Sam relaxed away from it, gasping and disoriented. Dean smiled down on him, a sparkle in his eyes that was as new as the want in Sam and he commented, “Hell, Boy, you’re really something.”

Sam looked up into the gaze that wanted him, and he was terrified, but even that emotion could muster no defences. He was at the mercy of a monster, something he had been taught all his life to hunt and kill, and it shouldn’t have mattered that it had once been Dean, but that mattered more than anything else. His brother had always been handsome, someone Sam admired for his easy sexuality even if he had preferred to disapprove of Dean’s loose ways, but this new creature was more than his brother and the same all in the one thought. The familiarity held back lethal defences and the newness fired off every sexual impulse Sam had. As he looked into Dean’s face, he knew he was going to be devoured, he just wasn’t sure in how many ways.

Sam lay passively where he had been placed as Dean let go of his wrists. His chest rose and fell irregularly as sense fought with lust and lost, and watched the focused intent in Dean’s expression as he dropped his attention to the damp t-shirt Sam was wearing. Sam started when Dean’s fingers slipped under the collar, but more from the wonderful way they stroked his skin than from surprise. He closed his eyes and listened to the ripping sound as the material was wrenched slowly in two and he gasped as he felt the cooler air of the room on his sweaty pecs.

Torn from top to bottom, Dean pushed the t-shirt out of the way, and Sam responded openly with a murmur and a shift against them as palms rubbed up his ribs and then over his already sensitised nipples. The intoxicating strangeness kept pace with Dean’s hands and distracted any remaining vestiges of normal that tried to break into Sam’s world. Sam only opened his eyes again when those palms came to rest on his shoulders and he felt the grip strengthen; this time, he looked up into Dean’s full vampire face, and he was afraid again.

He might have tried to get away then when Dean lowered his head towards the top of Sam’s left chest, but the hold was like iron and the futility of it was obvious, so Sam just balled his hands into fists and waited for another bite. His started with the pain, sound catching in his throat, but it was only a nip and then Dean surprised him by sitting back up away from his handiwork. There was blood on his lips, darkening them against his suntanned skin, and he did not attempt to lick it away. Instead, Dean’s attention was on the wound he had made, and he pressed a finger against it.

Sam winced, but the soreness was minor compared to the way his senses were raging with the power that was Dean. He didn’t expect it, but it made sense to the part of him that didn’t care about reason when he found a finger at his lips and his own blood was brushed over them.

“Vampires mate for life,” Dean told him, and the tone was so sincere it almost made Sam shy away.

Sam knew what was being asked now, and it was as frightening as the thought of being ripped apart by the vampire controlling him, he was being asked for consent. Sam still did not really understand to what he would be giving his leave, his thoughts were protecting themselves by sitting in the moment, but he gave it in a heartbeat as he flicked out his tongue and cleaned the finger pressed against his mouth; Dean smiled and leant forward again.

As he waited for the distance between them to be closed, Sam’s heart was skipping beats and he couldn’t breathe properly, but as lips met his, Sam’s senses spiked and he pushed back whole-heartedly. This wasn’t natural, this wasn’t good, but it was the only way, and every part of Sam embraced that as he reached up to do the same to Dean.

* * *

Sam lay passively in the evening calm and stared at the ceiling, his mind swimming in the sensations that were running through his body. It had been one kiss and then Dean had disappeared with a promise to return quickly, but even now his brain had been given a chance to catch up with good sense, it was not happening. He was at the mercy of a vampire, and he liked it. He was submitting to an experience he had never considered in his wildest dreams and he liked that as well, in fact, the anticipation was keeping his heart pounding even though Dean was somewhere else in the house.

“Hell, Sammy, you’re enough to keep me hard for a week,” Dean’s heady lilt alerted Sam to his brother’s presence at the door.

The sight that greeted Sam when he glanced over to the entrance was Dean wrapped only in a towel, all the gore of the previous night washed away to leave a perfect body. Sam took in more deep breaths as his libido stood up afresh and he had to break the heavy stare that Dean was giving him, returning to look at the ceiling.

“I don’t believe this,” he muttered, his only admission to the lack of reason in his head.

“Believe it,” Dean replied, walking over to the bed and looking down on Sam possessively as he placed something on the bedside table.

Sam would have turned to look at that, his senses alert to the new possibilities of the situation, but at that moment, Dean dropped the towel and nothing else mattered. Naked, Dean was more powerful than he had been covered in the blood of his making, and Sam was left in no doubt that he had not been joking about being hard. Sam had seen Dean without clothes before, one bathroom in an over-crowded motel room most of their lives had meant that there had been plenty of times their paths had crossed in states of undress, but now his senses, natural and supernatural, acknowledged and wanted the muscled body on display for him.

Sam was still wearing his ragged t-shirt and boxers. He sat up and pushed the broken cloth off one shoulder, and then there were hands helping him. Sam’s lips were parted in anticipation, waiting for another kiss as Dean pressed up against him, and the removal of his shirt was done blindly as he sunk into the glorious sensation of Dean’s teeth, tongue and lips on his mouth. He let himself be pushed back down into his bed, pulling himself away from the mattress and holding close to the strong body above him, feeling muscle and power flexing against him, and he was more than willing when Dean’s hand slid over his hip and began removing the rest of his clothing.

As soon as his erection was free of cloth, Sam shifted his hips and rubbed groin to groin, which made Dean groan through their kiss and the rest of the removal was paused as the move was reciprocated. Sam’s experience of sex had been Jess and the sensation of man to man was alien, but so erotic, Sam had to eventually break the kiss and tip his head back in ecstasy. He knew he was grinning like a loon and panting like an over-excited virgin, but Sam had no intention of stopping, not even when Dean chuckled and commented, “Getting carried away, Sammy?”

One more grind of dick on dick, and Sam proved Dean right as with a yell of shock, he shot his load up between them. It might have been an embarrassing loss of control, but both men could feel the power raging between and through them, and Sam clung to Dean as the orgasm ripped away any defences his mind had against the intensity of that connection. Dean did not mock, or even make comment, in fact, he was tender as he cradled Sam and gently lowered him all the way onto the mattress once more. Sam relaxed, his eyes closed, as he breathed away the rest of the orgasm and he dallied in the place, where his skills and senses had joined, for a little longer.

Fingers stroking his face opened Sam’s eyes and Dean was smiling at him again, part care, but all desire. Sam smiled back, despite the flutter of his heart as he still saw the beast behind the human façade. Dean didn’t say anything then, he just knelt away a little and slid down the bed. Sam closed his eyes again and murmured his pleasure as tongue lapped at his chest and his own cum was cleaned with erotic efficiency from his body. Only when Sam was clean again did Dean make what Sam knew was his only comment on the overload: he took the head of Sam’s dick into his mouth and ruthlessly taunted the left-over sensitivity there. Sam bucked and groaned as ghosts of the orgasm made him see stars, and he was panting helplessly in a boneless pile by the time Dean let him go.

Sam knew he was being watched, Dean was propped up on one elbow and he could feel eyes running up and down his body, and Sam could hide nothing, in fact, he didn’t want to. Dean could know everything as far as Sam was concerned and he liked the feeling of being admired.

“On your side,” the order snapped Sam out of his reverie, albeit with starts of desire running out from his erogenous zones.

Sam did as he was told, shivering as Dean pressed up against his back while reaching over him to the cabinet. This time, Sam saw what Dean had brought back from the shower with him, it was a clear bottle containing a clear fluid.

“Have you done this before?” Sam’s sensible brain decided that it was time to ask some pertinent questions, especially since Sam had never seen the bottle before.

“A few times,” Dean sounded unconcerned, although the news surprised Sam, and he added, “but it’s not always guys who need lubrication.”

Sam laughed, nerves and rampant libido making his reactions reckless: he didn’t want to think too much, this was about feeling.

“Easy, Sam, I can feel it too,” Dean whispered right into his ear, and for the first time in his life, Sam knew Dean understood the unexplainable part of him that had been the cause of so much disaster in their lives.

Sam trembled again as he was then kissed on his uppermost shoulder and he felt sharp teeth tease his skin. He was so intent on the promise of a bite, which sent skitters of excitement through him, that Sam did not care what Dean was doing with his hands, that was until he felt slick fingers move between his legs. Sam drew in a hasty breath, but went with the gentle push that lifted his leg forward and sent him half onto his front, propped up by his bent knee. 

His stomach did a few somersaults when Dean’s fingers stroked his balls and he managed, “Oh God.”

Sam’s dick ached from his recent orgasm, but as the mixture of mortal and immortal influence danced through him, he was growing hard again already. He hadn’t recovered so fast since hiding in the bathroom with Playboy in his teens, and the idea was draining, but his pleasure centres seemed to like it.

“You are a surprise, Sammy,” Dean commented as they both knew what was going on in Sam’s groin.

Sam’s only response was a moan as Dean squeezed his balls lightly in his palm. That sound grew lower as his partner massaged back over the highly charged skin behind his balls and up the crack of his ass. Jess had been good with her hands, but where Dean was going, no-one had explored before, and Sam tensed as finger tips pressed against his anus. It felt worryingly good, and the tension was more nerves than dislike, but Dean lightened his attention, stroking over Sam’s entrance as he coaxed, “Relax, Sammy, I’m not going to hurt you.”

Sam had trusted his brother implicitly on every hunt they had undertaken together, but this was not a hunt, and Dean had already made it clear he was not thinking like that man anymore, so trust was difficult to come by. Yet lust was not, and the explorative pressing was waking more pleasure centres for Sam than he had known he had. He relaxed and let the coursing in his senses take away any trepidation he had left and as soon as he relinquished control again, Sam felt Dean push.

One slippery digit slid against his muscles and had Sam gasping again in a heartbeat. It burnt as he instinctively resisted, but it was better than he had expected and his cock pulsed in time with the small spasms of sensation the intrusion caused. Dean paused with his finger fully inserted into Sam, and kissed his shoulder again, still not breaking the skin.

“Hell, you’re good, Sammy,” Dean admired, and then, slowly turning his digit back and forth, he asked, “How does this feel?”

Sam had no words, only reaction and he murmured wordlessly as pleasure and a little pain ran riot through his system. He continued to vocalise his desires as Dean began to massage more definitely. It did not take long for Sam to become more used to the wonderful penetration and his lover noted it.

“Ready for more?” he was asked, but a spike in his heartbeat was all Sam needed to provide as an affirmative and then two fingers opened him.

Sam pushed back onto the intrusion, finishing the seating himself, and then he lay back against Dean’s chest, panting again.

“Harder,” he requested as Dean paused and he found that he didn’t want the testing pleasure to go away.

Dean chuckled again, pushed him back into the original position and replied, “Whatever you want, Sammy.”

Sam cried out as he got more than he bargained for: three fingers before two was fully comfortable, and Dean began to move them with more force. Sam’s murmurs became yells then as his senses reached a limit and went right over it. Dean’s breath fell hot on his neck and Sam was more than aware that the extra force was waking the night side of his lover. He moved then, onto all fours and Dean came with him, taking advantage of the better access.

Yet, the maddening sensation was nothing compared with the moment when cock aggressively replaced fingers. Sam reared up as it felt like he was being split open. He was caught round the neck by Dean and held steady against his partner’s body, shivering and unable to stop the overwhelming experience. The sexual energy drew in all his senses, and the unnatural power in Dean coursed through him unchecked: he was wild with it.

Sam slowly came down from the pique, hard as a rock and seated fully on Dean’s dick. He hung onto the arm that held him in place, wondering if he was still sane as the instincts of a vampire mixed freely with his unguarded skills. Was he a toy, possessed by a power he should have destroyed? It was an odd thought as his pleasure centres ran on overload, but it remained in the melee of his senses as Dean slowly bent Sam forward again.

If this was hell, Sam wanted to stay and he growled that want as Dean began to move. Deep, shallow, fast, slow, Sam took everything his lover could give and wanted more. His groin was throbbing with his ardour, and he knew he was on the edge, but something held him back. Sam could feel Dean as well, darkness and power heading for his own zenith, and the mixture of man and vampire took him out of even the world around him. Sam knew what was happening when Dean grabbed him and pulled him back up into his body, he could feel the hunger like it was his own.

Dean thrust hard one last time and then he bit the shoulder to which he had earlier laid claim. Sam’s skills wrapped themselves around the contact, even as he screamed with the sudden pain, and everything, body and soul, ascended into white hot orgasm.


	4. The Call of the Pack

Sam lay on his side in Dean’s possessive embrace staring out at the night that had descended sometime during the mind-blowing sex from which he was still coming down. Dean had told him when he was cognisant enough to understand that he had blown a light bulb in the bedside light, opened the curtains and shattered a glass that had been on his desk during his second orgasm, and although he was sore at neck and elsewhere, Sam was smiling to himself as he ran it back through his mind.

“You with me, Sam?” Dean asked, shifting his weight and unlocking the clamp that had been his hold for the last few minutes.

“Hmm,” Sam decided that would do as a positive for now, and he turned over to face the creature who had corrupted him completely, showing him his smile.

Dean just looked like Dean again, but he would never feel the same to Sam. Knowing how to spot a vampire was something not even seasoned hunters could do, but Sam knew his vampire and, although still able to make adrenaline pump round his system, he didn’t think he’d ever be afraid of the power in Dean again. That momentary consideration of the future made Sam pause, however, and he frowned, unwilling to let reality in to the intense world.

“What is it?” Dean spotted the slip of euphoria.

“What are we going to tell Dad?” he asked, letting the worry come all the way forward.

Dean flopped onto his back, staring at the ceiling and returned, “If I want to keep my head, nothing.”

Sam reached out impulsively and ran his palm over Dean’s chest, still sensing the power there, even though it had now dropped back to sane proportions. Dean murmured and closed his eyes, and it would have been easy for Sam to forget the difficult subject and reinitiate the ardour that was still at the back of his senses. Yet, Sam had never gone in for easy, and he knew his spirit would not lie quiet until he’d started to at least think about solutions.

“He’ll figure it out,” Sam chose to be honest: his father was one of the best hunters he knew.

Dean huffed and frowned across at Sam.

“Way to spoil the mood, Bro,” he complained, but reality was there behind Dean’s expression as well.

“We can work this out,” Sam announced, telling himself as well as Dean. “I don’t know how much blood you need, but if you need more than one donor, you don’t have to kill, we know that.”

“In the company we keep, there’ll be a few chicks that dig it,” Dean replied, far too flippantly for Sam’s taste.

“Don’t joke,” Sam chided, needing to make some sense of it all.

However, Dean did not respond constructively to Sam’s want; he pounced. Sam tensed as suddenly there was a body on top of him, but he soon relaxed as Dean dropped a knee between his legs and pressed up against his groin.

“You worry too much,” Dean told him in what Sam had decided was his bedroom voice. “We’ll handle it like we always do.”

The last statement was said with offhand conviction and Sam almost believed his big brother, but too much had changed too quickly for him to accept it. He would have continued his objection, but as soon as he opened his mouth, Dean rolled his eyes, tutted and then silenced him with a heavy kiss. Sam’s strung out senses responded for him, and he grunted with the wall of power that hit him, but he was not going to be distracted. Dean had strength and power on his side, but when Sam pushed him away, he propped himself up on his elbows and looked down, frowning.

“We have to talk about this,” Sam tried again.

However, Dean’s attention had wilfully shifted once more, he was looking at Sam’s shoulder and it was obvious what he was looking at. The bite was still bleeding a little, it was sticky and sore, and Dean’s nostrils were flaring with the smell of blood that Sam could barely detect.

“You’ve had enough,” Sam castigated, his heart in his throat as he saw and felt Dean’s obsession, but he shoved upwards again and was relieved when Dean rolled off him.

Sam got out of bed and headed to the bathroom that joined both his and Dean’s rooms: he didn’t dare look back at the vampire in his bed in case the status quo snapped. He headed rapidly for the bathroom cabinet, where he kept the dressings, and grabbed the first thing he found, a large band aid almost as big as his palm.

“You should wash that first,” a voice behind him made Sam jump and he looked into the mirror on the front of the cabinet.

It was a small relief when he saw Dean’s reflection – another myth dissipated – but the look in his brother’s eyes was far from comforting.

“Let me,” Dean offered, reaching past Sam to open the cupboard again.

Sam shivered and stepped away from the closeness, not trusting his or Dean’s intentions. He sat on the edge of the bath and watched suspiciously as Dean pulled out a selection of things from the cabinet, the last of which appeared to be what he wanted, some cotton wool and some kind of salve.

“Don’t look so worried, Sammy,” his brother snorted, running the wad of cotton wool under the tap. “I have a vested interest in making sure you’re okay.”

That did not reassure Sam at all, but he remained where he was when Dean turned to him and wiped at the wound. It was sore and he hissed as Dean was less than gentle, but he was just laughed at and told, “Don’t be such a baby, Sammy, you’ve had worse.”

“Not from you,” Sam retorted and then quickly looked away from the eyebrow-raise that was aimed at him.

Dean didn’t say anymore, he smeared on the salve in silence and then covered the wound with the dressing.

“Feel better now?” Dean asked, stepping away and letting Sam stand up.

He wasn’t just being asked about the bite, and Sam looked at the creature whose power had seduced him so quickly. Now he was coming down, it seemed that he was going to keep going till he hit bottom, and Sam’s spirits were in the basement as he thought about the many and varied implications of the choice he had made, Dad and incest being just two. Dean sighed as Sam showed him his doubt and then he turned away, playing with the stuff he’d emptied from the cabinet. Sam dropped his eyes to the floor, guilty that he had spoilt the mood still further, but knowing it was necessary.

“I found the nest,” Sam decided to try and pick the positive side of reality, even if it was quite dark. “I traced the description of a car the motel owner gave me and I found it at an old body shop downtown.”

“How many of them?” Dean asked, replacing bottles and apparently more interested in exploring their contents than really listening.

“Just the three females,” Sam replied, focusing on the facts. “Looks like a new nest, no prisoners, or new vampires.”

It was Dean’s turn to frown, but it looked like he was more pissed off about not being able to get the top off one of the pill bottles that Sam had put there on returning from the hospital with Dean’s prescriptions, so Sam glanced back at the floor and suggested, “Maybe Dad won’t be as hostile if we deal with the pack first.”

This time, Dean didn’t answer; the hairs on the back of Sam’s neck bristled, and he looked up at a silent stare that was suddenly very alien to him. Dean had seduced him with those eyes, but now they were set cold and Sam knew something wasn’t right.

“Dean?” he asked, his worry barrelling back.

Dean’s body was poised, ready to fly, but there was a frown on his face that was the only human part of him. Sam’s heart started beating rapidly again and he took a step towards the door of Dean’s room. However, the movement was all Dean needed to go from statue to blur of movement, and, despite his training, Sam had no time to even raise his arms in defence as Dean barrelled into him. He was not expecting the hard press of lips that met his alarm, nor the way his fear morphed immediately into adrenaline-fuelled desire, and his body raced in front of his head as Sam responded instinctively.

Sam relaxed against the wall where he had been pinned and opened his mouth to the kiss, letting the flood gates of experience open again. He would have settled readily into the embrace, but something unexpected accompanied the first brush of tongues, shooting into his mouth and hitting the back of his throat. Sam swallowed reactively and choked as a hard pellet slid down his throat. There were more in his mouth that he resisted swallowing, but Dean drew back and forced his jaw shut.

Sam grabbed for his brother’s wrist, trying to remove the clamp on his face, and he hit out, but the body holding him in place was like a rock, and Dean’s hand was also over his nose; Sam coughed and struggled, but in the end, he had to swallow the unknown lumps. He stopped fighting as then Dean removed the asphyxiating hand, gulping air that had been denied him, confused and fixed by the direct, but unreadable expression on Dean’s face. Dean still had him pinned and the authority from him was palpable. Sam just stared at him and heard, “Sorry Sammy, different priorities. Can’t you feel it? The pack is calling, they’re in my blood. Painkillers, pretty strong according to that cute chick at the pharmacy; may take a couple of minutes, but then they’ll send you to la la land. I gotta be with my pack, Sammy, and you’re my ticket in.”

The betrayal hit Sam like a wall, and he reacted with every survival instinct he had. Dean stepped backwards as Sam shoved him away, but it was a casual move. Still, Sam ducked out through the door to Dean’s room, flight his only recourse. Laughter followed him and he was told, “Sammy, come on, are you really gonna make me chase you?”

Sam heard footfalls come after him, not fast, but enough to put his heart into his throat. He knew without a doubt that he was being followed by something that only resembled his brother, and it meant to use him even more than it already had. Sam dashed for the door, slamming it behind him, desperate to put something between him and the monster he had completely misjudged. He wouldn’t do it again.

Sam’s heart hardened into hunter mode: no more Dean, no more qualms, his life was at stake. He knew where his weapon lay, it was under his bed, untouched, and Sam ran up the hall to reach it. Sam aimed himself at his door, but he hit the frame as the world shifted out and then back into focus in time with a rumble of his empty stomach. He regretted not having taken the time to eat in the last twenty four hours as he recognised the drugs heading straight into his blood stream. 

Pushing himself away from the door post, Sam fell to his knees and reached under the bed. A small sense of security returned to him as his fingers closed round the handle of his machete, but then he heard the much faster approach of feet coming towards him. Sam rolled over, brandishing the large knife, but Dean dove at him and smashed his knuckles back into the wooden floor before he could get in a swipe. Sam flexed and kicked at his adversary, but his head and his hand slammed into the floorboards again and along with the drugs, his head began to swim.

Dean’s hand was clamped onto his wrist and he squeezed hard, thumping knuckle painfully onto wood a few more times. The pain and mist that descended on him meant that Sam could not hold on to the machete for long.

“That’s it, Sammy, let it go,” Dean condescended.

The knife may have fallen from his palm, but Sam flexed again and again, trying to free himself from the monster dominating him. He would not give in, he would not let this thing beat him; anger and pain and self-disgust fired Sam and he snarled his emotions. Yet Sam’s fight did not even dent Dean’s hold on him, and the adrenaline just pumped the drugs more quickly through his system. The vampire looked down on him and watched. 

The pills slowly took away his motor control and Sam weakened until his defiance was no more than a growl at the back of his throat. He turned his face away from the avid attention, angry that he had been duped so completely and ashamed of the aggressively sexual way his brother was still looking at him. 

“Don’t fight it, Sammy,” Dean told him, which drew another gurgle from his throat, but Sam had no fight left, especially not when he glared back at the victor and saw conflict in his features. “Sleep; it’s better that way.”

Sam’s vision wafted in and out, and he blinked a couple of times, but the edges of the world faded further. Yet it was soul-destroying disillusionment that took away the rest of his stamina and Sam closed his eyes.

* * *

The miasma into which Sam slid was not a restful place. He felt it when Dean shifted off of him, and could only murmur a breathy, wordless complaint when his captor picked him up and laid him on the bed. Sickening helplessness stung his ego when gentle strokes of a flannel washed away the grime of his subjugation and all the energy and coordination he could muster only added up to one useless swing at Dean when he was sliding on a clean pair of boxers. That gained Sam a belt around his wrists and one round his ankles, and he could only watch through mostly closed eyes as Dean moved around the room, first dressing and then collecting up the research that would take them both straight to the nest.

Sam tried to shrink away when Dean approached him again, but he was wrapped efficiently in a blanket that hid his restraints and then Dean picked him up like he was weightless. He couldn’t even sit up in his seat when Dean propped him up in the back of the truck and he collapsed into an uncomfortable half-lying position. The pat on the shoulder he received for that only intensified Sam’s sense of self-loathing, but he was unable to scratch back any dignity.

The movement of the truck made the prisoner feel sick, and he heaved, but none of the pills came up, just bile that stung his throat. Dean was following the map he had drawn back to the pack, away from him, and loneliness crept up on Sam, chilling him to the bone as he realised he had lost his brother forever. 

Sam resisted when the truck came to a halt outside the nest he had found, but that only meant he landed hard on concrete when he was yanked out of his seat, and Dean scooped him up like he was a doll. He had no fight left when his wrists and ankles were untied and he was dumped into what his weak senses told him was a cage. Sam collapsed where he had been put, cold outside and cold inside and let the pills take over again.

* * *

The sound of a revving engine woke Sam as it split his head in two. He moaned his discomfort and sat up slowly, blinking away what was left of the effects of the pills.

“You back with me, Sammy?” Dean’s cold enquiry stripped away the rest of Sam’s drowsiness and he glowered out through the bars of the cage.

Yet, Dean had his back to him: he was standing in the middle of the room, thumbs in his pockets and facing the large pair of doors that had once given access to vehicles. Sam’s head was pounding and his throat was dry, but his senses were more or less back, and so was his spirit.

“Bastard!” he snarled in hatred of what Dean had become, his voice weak with his dry throat.

“If you want to stay alive, Sammy, stay quiet,” his brother told him in a tone that would normally have had Sam defying him all the way.

Yet there was the sound of voices outside and recognising Kate’s, Sam erred on the side of prudence and just glared out from his prison, hiding his fear behind silence. He leant heavily on the bars, his limbs still leaden, and watched as a smaller door in the large panel opened rapidly and a blurred shape shot across the room to Dean. Sam tensed, despite his animosity for his brother, when Kate came to a halt, her fingers fixed tightly around Dean’s throat. Dean was still standing passively at her mercy, hands now away from his body and hers, and the lack of resistance must have saved him from death; at least, that’s what Sam told himself and denied the way the pair of vampires was staring at one another.

“What are you doing here, Dean?” Kate snarled, tones in her voice that Sam didn’t want to decipher.

“Coming home,” Dean replied in a whisper due to the grip on his windpipe.

Sam was disappointed, but not surprised when Kate quickly let go and took a step away from Dean. The other two female vampires Sam had seen before came up behind her, and they were a united front as they regarded one of their own.

“What makes you think you can come crawling to me?” Kate had authority in her voice, tinged by some anger.

“I felt the pack,” Dean replied, his face completely serious, and Sam was given another reminder of how far away from him this creature had gone. “You know what that’s like.”

“Aw, wittle Deany wants to join in,” the blond woman taunted, but Dean only gave her a momentary glance, concentrating on Kate, and Sam could see there was more in his look than just pack spirit.

Kate gave her subordinate a glare that could have sliced metal, and the vampire backed down frighteningly quickly. The blond bimbo turned away from the meeting, and her eyes went straight to Sam. He knew his presence had not been missed by any of the entrants, but he froze as she smiled at him and strode over. Sam glowered at her, but when she did not do anything but stand over the cage, his attention went back, although distractedly, to Dean and Kate.

“I could kill you now,” Kate threatened, but again Sam could hear more than the menace in her voice.

“But you won’t,” Dean returned and he smiled. “I brought a peace offering.”

Sam’s heart skipped a beat when the pack’s whole attention fell on him. He didn’t like it when Kate then smiled as well.

“Don’t you know how to treat a lady,” Kate responded and she was shoulder to shoulder with Dean as they walked over to Sam’s prison.

Sam was fixated on his one-time brother as the full betrayal sank home again and again in those hazel eyes. He was therefore caught out when blondie smacked the bars with the flat of a knife she had drawn from somewhere and his fingers suffered some grazing. Sam backed off rapidly with a yelp and glowered out at the four vampires.

“What have you been doing to him?” Kate asked with a smile that degraded Sam even further.

“He has some unique talents,” Dean informed what had in those last few seconds clearly become his pack, and another nail sank into Sam’s coffin.

“Oh yes?” Kate sounded more than interested, and she reached for the padlock on the cage door.

“I suggest waiting,” Dean actually covered the woman’s hands in his own, at which she scowled, but he let go quickly and explained, “I had to drug him to get him here, best wait an hour or so for the stuff to wear off, or he’ll be bitter.”

Being referred to like some prize steer brought colour to Sam’s cheeks, but he kept his teeth gritted and stayed out of reach of the vampires. Kate was smiling again as she leant nonchalantly on the bars and lorded his humbled state over Sam.

“Later, Baby,” she almost whispered.

“Monsters!” Sam finally snapped and he threw himself at the front of the cage, his fingers bent into a claw that went for Kate’s face.

However, he was still sluggish from the drugs and Kate was no longer in range when he reached his goal. She laughed, stepping back close to Dean and the other two women moved in to deal with his show of defiance. The dark vampire kicked her boot at his knee and blondie smacked his knuckles with the knife again. One made him let go of the bars and the other knocked his weight out from under him and so Sam went sprawling.

Laughter kept Sam in the untidy heap in which he landed and Dean commented, “Feisty devil, isn’t he?”

“We’ll see,” Kate promised and Sam looked away, unable to maintain any sense of rebellion when his foundations had been removed so thoroughly.

“Sorry, Sammy,” Dean provided another false apology that Sam could not look at any more, “this time, blood is thicker than blood.”

As the pack walked away, Sam let what little energy he had drain away and he curled over onto his side into a protective ball.

* * *

Kate could be a real bitch, Dean had found that out the hard way, but as they left the other two vampires behind and he followed her into a private room off a back corridor, he couldn’t help checking out the great butt that was on display covered in skin tight denim. She turned more quickly than he was expecting, catching his look, but Dean covered with a boyish smile that he knew usually did it for the ladies. Vampire queen she may have been, but the grin seemed to work on Kate, because although she was not smiling yet, Dean could more than see her interest in him: his plan was working.

“You’re not out of the dog house yet, Dean,” Kate warned with the authority her pack had given her, but Dean just continued to smile at the extra depth to her tone.

“Don’t tell me Sammy wasn’t a good start,” he quipped back.

The woman didn’t answer immediately, in fact she looked Dean up and down slowly in a way that went straight for Dean’s libido before she continued, “Promising, Baby, promising.”

Dean didn’t quite relax when his maker turned her back on him again and laid her hands on the desk, and his caution was correct, because in a flurry of movement, Dean found a large bowie at his throat and he was asked, “Why?”

Dean held back strong instincts that told him to fight and rip the threat to pieces, he could still feel the pack and the changes in him were also telling him this was his leader, so he deferred. He held his hands out from his sides again, as passive as he could be with a blade at his neck and offered directly, “I felt you all when you made me. He wasn’t family anymore.”

Dean looked directly into Kate’s enquiring and hostile gaze and he searched out the depth there that he had heard in her voice. He saw the doubt cut through the woman’s hatred of him, and he knew she understood his sentiments. Sam would never have understood the pull of the pack that he could feel in his head and his blood, but his own kind did. Still, Dean let out an obvious breath of relief when Kate lowered the knife and stepped back.

“Okay, you’ve bought yourself five minutes to convince me why I shouldn’t rip you limb from limb,” Kate told him, and she was trying to be cold, despite the connection on which Dean was playing.

Dean was good with the gab, but he knew he was going to have to be fantastic if he wanted to stay alive. He rested his thumbs back into his pockets and turned on the charm; one girlfriend had described him as smouldering when he’d wound it right up, and Kate was less obvious, but he saw her gaze settle on him more firmly.

“Your pack’s a little low on bodies,” Dean started.

“That had a lot to do with you,” Kate hissed.

Okay, so maybe that was the wrong point on which to start, but Dean had chosen his road, so he persisted, “Okay, fair cop, but you’re the one who changed the ball park when you made me.”

The vampire showed her distaste at that, she frowned, but her attention was still avidly on Dean and her dislike was morphing into something else moment by moment.

“Stop me if I’m wrong,” Dean risked all on a theory. “You wanted me to kill my brother and my dad and then die of a broken heart.”

Not a flicker, one way or the other, well, not one Kate would have noticed she had made, but Dean thought he was on the right track.

“You don’t know Winchesters very well,” he threw in the quip, which did make Kate ruffle. “Honey, we’re survivors. A demon killed my mom when I was four, I’m a realist. Sammy made the mistake of thinking things could stay the same.”

“You want me to believe that you would betray your brother that easily?” Kate pushed and Dean fell right over the edge.

He stepped up close to the vampire, making her lean back on the desk, and he let out some of the mixed emotions that he normally kept deep down inside.

“You think any of this is easy?” he snarled, ignoring the blade that came back against his jugular. “Sam was my brother, and I still know that, but he’s not now. I’m a killer thanks to you, and I’d have taken him sooner or later, better for everyone to make it sooner.”

Dean could see a hard fear in Kate’s eyes, but he did not back down, his bet had been laid and he just waited for the outcome. He was a monster, he was stronger than the woman in front of him, knife or no knife, and she had to know that, and he would not bow to her. Kate was not weak either, but it appeared she was a pragmatist as well, because she straightened, making Dean step away and then she placed the knife on the table behind her.

“So you want to be part of my pack,” she seemed to begin again, and half a smile played at one corner of her mouth.

“I want to be at the top of it,” Dean decided it was time to be blatant.

Kate’s eyes flashed dangerously at that, but her smile grew.

“I don’t do anything by halves,” he continued and slipped back into ‘smouldering’.

“You think you can handle me?” Kate revealed she was not totally against the proposal.

“Be fun to try,” Dean finally smiled back and closed the distance between them again.

Kate accepted his touch when he ran an arm round her waist and pulled her into his body, but she leant back again, glowering into his face.

“You’re not Luthor,” she warned.

“Hell, no!” Dean agreed, tightening his hold and letting down a little of his guard so he could feel the creature close to him. “But, Sweetheart, you’re giving off vibes that say I could be Dracula and you wouldn’t mind.”

“I haven’t found another mate yet,” Kate dropped the carrot in front of him and Dean let his smile grow.

“You taking auditions?” he asked and lowered his face slowly towards Kate’s.

Dean was met halfway.

* * *

Sam leant against the bars at the back of his cage and stared blankly at the peeling paintwork on the wall a few inches away. The effects of the painkillers had subsided and he was more alert, but they had left him washed out. There was no point wasting any more energy while he was sharing the workshop with two vampires, so Sam had resolved to stay inconspicuous while his captors were awake. Still, he wasn’t going to sleep while they were around either, so he listened to their conversation.

So far, Sam had learned that the blond vampire’s name was May-Lynne and that she liked Rose-Blush lipstick, but that her companion, who was still nameless, preferred Pink-Dawn. It was neither useful nor interesting, but Sam didn’t dare let his guard down in case some titbit came his way. He was therefore well aware when the conversation paused and after a few whispers he could not decipher, someone began to walk over to his cage. Sam rapidly closed his eyes, not wishing to get into another encounter.

“Don’t play games, I know you’re awake,” the dark woman’s voice taunted, her tone light and amused.

Sam glanced at her through his unkempt fringe, staying well back from where she could have reached him. His captor was smiling at him and made Sam think of the way a child smiles at puppies in a pet shop window. Gracefully, she sank into a crouch and then reached through the bars. It took Sam a couple of blinks to realise she was putting a half-eaten hotdog on the ground between them, and then she offered, “My name’s Becky. Are you hungry?”

Sam did not trust the pleasantry, nor the offer of food. He was more than clear on how vicious these animals could be and he knew that he was just a mouse being taunted by his supernatural cat. He did not move.

Becky, however, seemed undaunted, and she began playing with one curl of her dark head as she recalled, “You tried to save me, didn’t you?”

Sam still stayed silent and wary.

“I ‘spose I should say thank you, even if you were too late.”

“I’m making a habit of being late,” Sam growled and glanced over to the corridor down which he had seen Dean disappear.

Becky’s smile brightened at his response, clearly not caring about the subject matter and she followed Sam’s attention for a moment before continuing with a sigh, “Dean’s one of us now.”

Sam just gave his companion a withering look for that statement of the obvious. Becky pouted at him innocuously.

“Don’t be so grumpy.”

Sam couldn’t believe what he was hearing: he was semi-naked in a cage, bitten and drugged and this bitch was telling him not to be grumpy? He shifted his position and glared directly at the vampire, risking moving forward a little to show his ire.

“You’re twisted,” he objected, waving his hand dismissively at Becky.

That was his mistake and Sam knew he’d made it as soon as he saw Becky’s attention flick to his movement. He tried to pull back, but supernatural response was faster than he could follow, and he could only cry out as a clamp fixed around his wrist and dragged him towards the front of the cage.

“No!” he objected more coherently as he recognised hunger in the vampire’s gaze, but he was ignored and his arm was yanked out through the bars.

Sam slammed into the cage, struggling to stop his arm being straightened out in front of Becky, but May-Lynne swooped as soon as the ruse had played out and Sam had two vampires holding his arm. He put his whole body into trying to back out of the hold, but Sam was held almost absently in place as both the night crawlers looked up and down his vulnerable flesh like it was a smorgous board. 

The dressing that he had put over Dean’s first bite was stained dark brown now and the dried blood drew the girls’ attention.

“No!” Sam resisted again as Becky caught the edge of the band aid holding it down with her nail.

He’d been tricked and used, and Sam did not want another symbol of that deception being revealed, but with a sloth that Sam knew was designed to wind him up, Becky pulled away the adhesive tape. Sam could not smell anything, but both vampires drew in deep breaths as the wound was uncovered and they were clearly excited when they then looked at each other. Sam flexed uselessly, the first pangs of fear overtaking his initial anger at being deceived again.

May-Lynne pressed a finger tentatively against the broken skin and Sam drew in a sharp breath as his nerve endings reacted. The woman ran her teeth over her lip and smiled at him, her eyes shining with something that wasn’t friendly. Sam could feel the power in the air, he did not need to see the teeth descend to know he was going to be an evening snack. He did not want to experience these monsters the way he had Dean, so he clamped down on all his senses, closing his eyes and bracing himself for the bites he knew were coming.

Fangs breaking his skin in two places made Sam start, but he gritted his teeth silently. It was the descent of essence of vampire that made him whimper and he struggled again. He had barely discovered his skills and so blocking them was difficult, but desperation protected him a little, stopping most of the empathy he had shared with Dean. Still, Sam could not stifle his pain at both the physical and mental assault for long and he cried out, sinking against the bars as his world descended into nasty sensations. Attractive they may have been on the outside, but the two women were dark and dangerous on the inside, killing machines, and the inhumanity drowned Sam. Even without the empathy, he met vampire head on, surrounding him in what his soul told him was evil. This hadn’t been how it was with Dean, fresh, unnatural power, it was seasoned murder.

“Hey, leave some for us,” Dean’s nonchalant tones made Sam feel sicker, but the suggestion did at least get the girls to leave off.

Sam’s arm was dropped like a discarded piece of rubbish, and its owner slid slowly down the bars of his cage, no energy except for trying to dissipate the horrifying taste in his mouth.

“Looks like a nerd, wimps out like a nerd,” May-Lynne gave her opinion of Sam’s reaction as both vampires stood and lorded their position over him.

“But tastes good, though,” Becky added.

“Okay, yeah, he’s a nerd, but Ladies, he comes from good stock,” Dean informed them, and Sam felt his brother's shadow fall on him, but he did not open his eyes to look.

“I’ve seen some freak out, but that’s not normal,” Kate revealed her presence with the observation and Sam dragged his arm back into the cage just in case she wanted to test her theory.

“Told you he had unique talents, it gets better,” Dean sounded amused and Sam felt sicker as he heard the smack of lip on lip.


	5. Mojo Rush

They’d all gone out to party shortly after discussing his reaction and Sam had taken a while to recover in the solitude afforded him. But then he took the opportunity to examine his surroundings more closely. What with the drugs and the need to stay inconspicuous, Sam had not taken a good look around the machine shop before, and so he scanned the area for anything that could help him out of his current situation.

Sam concentrated purely on clinical observation: he could not afford to fall apart again if he was going to survive. He ignored the implication of a collection of butcher’s knives that were hanging on the far wall where once there had been mechanic’s tools; he just noted that a few were of a size to be used as weapons if he could get to them. He also ignored the chill that ran down his spine when he saw the discarded blanket and belts lying on a bench nearby, and considered instead that he might be able to make a lasso with the leather if he could just reach the blanket and pull everything over to him. Yet, just as Sam was heading down that course, he looked over at the door and his interest in lassoes went away. There, on a hook, was a ring of keys and when he squinted, Sam could just make out what he thought was one for a padlock.

A sudden euphoria accompanied by a reach in the direction of his release was followed swiftly by self-disdain as Sam looked at the distance between his hand and freedom. He relaxed as the futility of his action hit home and leant against the front bars as the doldrums began to settle around him again. Sam glared at the keys for having raised his hopes and dashed them so quickly, his emotions suddenly rollercoastering and warning him of how unstable they were.

“Get a grip, Winchester,” Sam scolded himself and closed his eyes, trying to find the necessary calm that his dad had taught him over years of hunting.

Yet, Sam didn’t find calm, in fact he found the opposite, and as his emotions piqued, he heard a sound that made him snap open his eyes: the rattle of keys. When he focused on them again, Sam couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing; the keys were swinging on their nail. Logical, rational Sam immediately looked for a normal reason for the movement, a gust of wind or something, but his instinctive brain knew it had been no wind that had moved the keys, he had felt something stir inside.

Not trusting either side of his mind, Sam stared at the keys again, in concentration rather than consternation this time. He watched as the keys came to a stop, once more uninfluenced, feeling a little foolish, but he’d witnessed too much from himself and Dean in the last couple of days to give up due to pride. Sam’s reward came when, with a chink of metal, the keys flicked away from the wall and then back into place. Sam wasn’t sure what he’d done, but he’d felt the same shift inside and he smiled at the small success.

That was it for a few minutes, try as he might, Sam could not find the on switch for his skills. The keys stayed still on their hook, a testament to his ineptitude, and all Sam managed was to make the world flip in and out for a moment when he went cross-eyed. Swearing and with the beginnings of another headache, Sam relaxed against the bars and searched his memory for the catalyst that could help him focus.

The telekinetic cast his mind back to that first time he had done anything, the movement of the huge cabinet out of his way. Cause and effect was a difficult thing to judge, but the premonition of Dean being shot had stayed with Sam in his nightmares since then, and he remembered the rush of adrenaline that had accompanied his actions. With that conclusion, his thoughts came forward to the moment he did not remember at all, but which Dean had described to him: he had broken things when the rush of orgasm had combined with his skills.

Sam felt his face grow hot as he recalled that intense experience and how wrong it felt since Dean’s betrayal. He had felt that connection, it was something that he didn’t think could have been faked, but Dean had betrayed it anyway. That made Sam suddenly angry again. The fury did not build, it just came up from the safe place where Sam had locked it away and hit him like a wall. His heart started to beat very fast and he wanted to scream his hatred of his brother at the empty room. Yet some part of Sam remained sane, and he did not yell, instead, he focused.

Once more, it wasn’t really any kind of coherent direction that led Sam, but he held out his hand to the keys again and vented some frustration. Sam’s jaw went slack as he watched the ring leave its hook and come flying through the air in an arc. The keys landed with a loud clink about halfway across the room. At his success, Sam knelt up and paid much more attention to what he was doing. He laid his forehead against the bars of the cage and reached both hands out towards his salvation and tried to find some more emotion.

Nothing happened.

Sam growled to himself and closed his eyes again. All the bad TV movies about psychics and the paranormal that he had watched as a kid came flooding back and, although it sounded absurd to his logical brain, he remembered the common theme of visualisation. Clamping down on normal, Sam pictured the keys in his mind, and, more importantly, he pictured them sliding along the ground. The quick slice of metal on concrete made Sam smile, but he didn’t dare open his eyes. He carried on with his visualisation and was rewarded with a longer period of movement.

Sam’s head was thumping within a couple of minutes as the image of the keys drifted in and out of focus in his mind. Yet, he had heard the keys moving several times, and so he risked opening his eyes to judge his progress and to take a breather. His freedom was now sat only a few feet away and Sam’s spirits rose. More confident now, Sam kept his eyes open, held out his hands again and saw the keys move both in his head and across the floor. Only an inch at a time, and the bridge of his nose was humming, but instincts and experience were gradually slotting into place for Sam. He could analyse it later, for now he just wanted the keys.

Sam’s world closed round the keys, nothing else mattered. It wasn’t until his quarry was almost within reach and he stretched to try and reach the keys manually that Sam came out of himself enough to realise that he was panting and shaking and his skin was glistening with his continued effort. His freedom was almost at his fingertips, and he took a deep breath to steady himself before stretching a little more. However, as Sam’s middle finger brushed the tip of the metal ring, a blur of colour headed straight at him, then away again, and the keys weren’t there anymore.

Sam froze as his salvation slipped through his fingers and he only slowly looked up from where the keys had been. Dean was standing with Kate’s arm around his waist and they were flanked by Becky and May-Lynne, who was dangling the keys from one finger and grinning at him. Sam’s heart sank through the floor again as Dean smacked his hands together, once, then twice, then a third time, each sound mocking and telling him what a fool he’d been again.

“Very good, Sammy,” Dean praised. “I knew you had it in you.”

When faced with such ridicule, Sam’s brain told him how obvious the bait had been, and he knew he’d been duped into performing again.

“I told you he was good,” Dean lorded with the pack, and then he met gazes with Sam and his blood ran cold. “You’ve gotten us all excited, Little Bro.”

When Dean and Kate began to walk towards his cage, the same hungry looks in their eyes that he’d already experienced from the other two women, Sam backed off very rapidly from the vampire couple. He hit the back corner of his cage before he stopped and he hunched into a defensive crouch, determined not to be an easy target.

“Looks like someone wants to play,” Kate observed, running her tongue over her lips in a way that told Sam he was not going to come out of this encounter without more bites.

Yet, he was not going to give in to such barbarism without a fight and he responded in the only language these animals understood, he bared his teeth. Kate laughed, but her sound wasn’t all derision and Sam sensed vampire again. Good, he needed to hate and Sam poised himself for a struggle.

“Sammy, Sammy, you really going to try to give me some trouble?” Dean cut away some of Sam’s foundations with real scorn.

“Stay away from me, Dean,” Sam warned.

Dean shook his head, a lopsided smile showing just how much that threat had not made an impact. Then he turned and held out a hand to May-Lynne, who winked at him and threw the keys. There wasn’t even a flicker of concern from his brother as Sam watched him unlock the padlock and throw open the front of the cage.

“Be a good boy and come here,” Dean beckoned with one hand.

This time, Sam knew he was being baited, but it didn’t matter, laughter from the other vampires was too much and rage was his only defence, so, with a growl, he threw himself at his adversary. Dean was laughing as well as Sam barrelled into him, but Sam was determined to lay at least one punch. Dean took a couple of paces backwards with Sam tackling him around the waist, but it was clear he’d been expecting the attack and he did not seem to care when Sam thumped his fists into the small of his brother’s back.

The others were still laughing, which just made Sam fight harder; adrenaline was pumping through his veins again and he was desperate to make these things pay for what they had and were doing. The grief of losing his brother was just underneath Sam’s anger and he attacked the monster that had Dean’s face with all the strength in his body. He straightened from the enforced crouch of the cage and swung properly, all his fury in the punch and a yell. Sam saw his fist contact with Dean’s jaw, he felt his knuckles complain with the force and the vampire did at least take another step back, but then he looked at Sam with a glint of amusement in his eye and all of Sam’s rage came to a strangled halt.

Sam could only watch, caught between grief and hatred as Dean rubbed his jaw and then taunted, “Ow, Sammy, that wasn’t nice.”

The off hand manner found Sam’s fury again, and he would have struck out once more, but Dean was faster. Sam gagged as Dean lifted an arm, caught him round the throat with it and pulled him in close to his body into a neck hold that immediately cut off breathing.

“Gotcha,” Dean hissed into his ear and Sam grabbed for the iron bar that was around his throat.

He smacked and scrabbled at the solid hold, trying to breathe, but Dean just started to move off towards the back of the shop, dragging Sam with him.

“Have a nice time, Sammy,” May-Lynne waved like she was seeing him off to a party, while Becky giggled at her side.

Kate’s attention was not quite so amused, her gaze held anticipation, and Sam fought desperately, fear now tinging his anger as he was hauled into whatever horror Dean had planned.

* * *

Dean shoved Sam at the large bed in Kate’s room and watched, his instincts sparking with dominance as his brother went sprawling. Sam coughed and gasped in the air that Dean had cut off in order to control him, pushing himself onto all fours as he did so, and the way his body flexed had the vampire’s attention the way it had when he had watched Sammy sleeping. Sam was beautiful, there was no doubt about it, now with the bites and the wild desperation in him, maybe more so to the beast that was crawling just below the surface in Dean. Dean held out an arm to Kate as she followed him into the room, holding her back from passing him: he wanted to watch a little longer.

Sam recovered with the practice of one who has been through plenty of tough times, and he turned to face the vampires, kneeling on the bed and still baring his teeth. Now the derision had done its job, Dean dispensed with the front, he showed the desire that Sam’s demeanour inspired in him. Dean could smell his brother’s fear, he could see it in his eyes, but he could also see a rage that spoke right to the power in him and it was intoxicating.

Kate either wasn’t as perceptive as her most recent creation, or she did not care, because after a few seconds, she pushed past Dean’s arm and went unsubtly for her victim. Sam tried to strike out again, but the vampire queen didn’t even pretend to care, she grabbed the fist that came at her and forced it up and over Sam’s shoulder. Sam had to follow or suffer a broken arm, and with another yell of defiance, he was ruthlessly shoved down onto the mattress and his wrist pulled towards a pipe on the wall.

Dean wasn’t sure if Kate had designed her boudoir with bondage in mind, but there were two hefty pipes running down the wall at the end of the homemade bed. When his partner threw him one of the two belts she had obviously picked up in the main room, Dean caught it and followed her cue, grabbing Sam’s other wrist and forcing it into position.

“No!” Sam objected, flexing uselessly against the will of his keepers.

“Relax, Sammy, this is just pay back for yesterday,” Dean chided, which made Kate glance over to him, her eyes wide with interest, but Dean just winked at her and smiled.

Of course, Sam didn’t stop fighting, Dean hadn’t expected him to, and the adrenaline-charged human was far too intoxicating for him to want to stop the struggles anyway. Dean stood back again and watched the strong muscles of Sam’s abdomen as he writhed against the bonds. Kate, again, seemed less involved with their prey, she sat down on the bed and grabbed him by the hair.

“Quit it,” she ordered, a short temper evident in her manner.

“Fuck off!” Sam snarled and Dean shook his head in awe of his brother’s stupidity as he knew what was coming.

Sam spat straight into Kate’s face. Kate retaliated instantly and her hand smacked hard across Sam’s cheek. He reeled with the swipe, and Dean felt for him as he sagged: he’d been on the receiving end of that power such a short time ago. Anger at that was still part of Dean, but he had put it aside to be dealt with later, and so he focused on Sammy. Dean knelt on the bed, leaning over his dazed brother and whispered, “She’s a bitch, isn’t she?”

Kate smiled at that when he glanced across at her and he grinned back, letting her see the way her violence had made his heart beat faster. Sam growled vacantly, blinking away the stars that had to be in front of his eyes, and Dean was glad the fight wasn’t gone from him completely, but he didn’t want Kate’s penchant for discipline to finish this too quickly either, so, just in case Sammy thought about resuming his fight, Dean leant on his chest.

“What do you think so far?” he asked his partner and put most of his weight on Sam as he pushed close to Kate for a kiss.

Kate gave him a quick brush of lips, but then she drew back and focused on the life at their mercy, the beast in control of the woman.

“I want his blood and I want to feel that head-fuck again,” she announced blatantly, and Dean was with her on that one; Sam had been pretty impressive with the key moving stuff.

Dean felt his partner call on the vampire under the surface and he could not resist, he joined her. Sam became suddenly very still, and it was not due to the daze, which had passed. Dean returned to his side of the bed, running his hand over his brother’s chest as he did so, and his fingertips picked up a rampaging heartbeat. Sam’s face was set in a glare, but that could not hide his fear and his senses were waking in response to the anxiety, Dean could feel it.

“You feel me, Sammy?” Dean coaxed the instincts to the surface in his brother, just like he had his own.

He scratched around one of Sam’s nipples, and Sam put his head back, gasping awkwardly: he felt him alright.

“Don’t fight it, Sam,” Dean pressed, stroking all the bare flesh on display to him. “You know how good it is.”

Sam’s chest rose and fell irregularly, but it wasn’t discomfort that caused it. Dean smiled to himself as his brother’s instinct ran ahead of will, and he felt barriers coming down whether Sam wished it or not. This is what he had connected with, the power in Sam that had drawn him out of hysterical torpor and into that bedroom, and, once more, his body stood up and took notice. Sam shifted, his eyes tight shut with resistance, but one quick glance down his brother’s body told Dean he was winning the battle of wills.

Dean was intent on Sam, he had almost forgotten about the woman who was watching him, until, that was, she too reached out and rubbed her palm over one of Sam’s pecks. The reaction was immediate, the gradual awakening of Sam’s skills disappeared in a stranglehold of denial, he cringed away and cried out in shock. Anger flared in Dean as his plans were hindered and he grabbed for Kate’s wrist, pulling her away from his human.

“Let me do it,” he objected angrily, forgetting for a moment to whom he was speaking.

Kate flexed in his hold, but Dean was stronger. However, as sense caught up with instinct, Dean saw the rage of a queen in his partner’s manner and he released his grip.

“Once he’s open, he won’t be able to stop it,” Dean quickly tried to cover his slip.

“He’s open enough already,” Kate decided, and her authority was undeniable.

He’d blown this round, Dean could see that in the fire in Kate’s eyes, and so he just watched as she bent to take first bite. He heard Sam scream as teeth cut flesh and he smelt the blood almost instantly, but it was the spike in Sam’s mojo that really made Dean take notice. All instincts fired, and he was at the mercy of them when quickly, he joined his queen in the feed.

Sam flooded Dean’s senses, not the open stream of experience he had drawn out during sex, but an antagonistic, resisting presence that was almost as intoxicating. The scream was half anger, half fear, and all horror and the beast in Dean rose up to claim all those emotions. Sam’s body flexed and tried to break away as his sweet blood was let, but it was his mind that kept Dean at the wound he made. He pushed at the defiance he found there, challenging it, testing its limits. As brothers they had frequently been in competition, for their father’s affection, occasionally for girls, but this was much, much more and Dean knew he was going to win.

Sammy wanted a fight, and Dean gave it to him, striking out with the darkness that had made him. Sam’s scream intensified and then, very suddenly, cut out. All movement stopped and Dean drew back as, with a sigh, his victim collapsed back onto the bed, out cold. Kate also pulled back, her eyes glowing and her mouth surrounded by the life blood she had taken.

“Oops,” Dean quipped, but it did not really matter that the encounter was over, the euphoria from the feeding stayed with both vampires, and Dean took the grimace opposite him to be a smile.

Dean leered back and then leant over the limp body of his brother. Kate met him halfway, and he tasted Sam’s blood again, but this time from the lips of his partner. He grabbed hold of the woman and pulled her across Sam and into his lap. Legs wrapped around his waist and he kissed his lover hard, nipping at her lips and tongue as his instinct for blood got the better of him; Kate didn’t seem to mind, in fact she reciprocated.

Dean was gasping with lust and the left over rush that had been Sammy by the time Kate pulled back. The woman had put her vampire away, but she was still pawing him with the beast below in control and she pushed against him.

“That was something else, Baby,” Kate revealed her excitement in words. “We’re gonna have to make this one last.”

“Oh, he’s got the stamina of an ox,” Dean replied, nipping lightly at Kate’s lip once more.

This time, Kate did not reciprocate, in fact, to his libido’s disappointment, the woman pulled back, and the high running through them both began to dissipate. Dean looked across at the serious expression that developed on Kate’s face and he just waited for whatever was sitting behind her eyes.

“I want you,” she breathed, “for life.”

Hell, that was fast: Dean smiled at his lover and chalked one up to the Winchester charm.

“But before we mate,” Kate interrupted his pornographic thoughts with a coy smile that plain surprised Dean, “you have to meet the rest of our pack.”

That was even faster; Dean had known there had to be more vampires somewhere, the girls were not enough to make a pack, there had been at least one other person holding the camera at his torture, and the larder of this urban home from home had been empty, but he had not expected to have such a secret revealed so soon. He glanced at Sam and then back at his queen and knew his brother had worked more than a little magic in smoothing the way.

“Well, you’re just full of surprises,” was his only response and then he dove back into the kiss.


	6. Never Again

The sun was coming up on a still morning by the time Dean drove the truck right up to what was, true to type, a large barn in the middle of nowhere.

“Welcome home, Baby,” Kate slid into his lap as soon as he’d stopped the engine.

Dean hadn’t realised that mating was a very literal thing for vampires. The woman had been pawing him all the way, and his own hormones were doing loop the loops as she gave off one hell of a set of pheromones.

“Sun.”

It took May-Lynne’s sleepy voice from the back of the truck to remind the pair of where they were and when, and then their passenger headed out of the door. A few kisses later, Kate decided to be sensible as well and broke the embrace. However, Dean had his hand firmly on her butt when they walked into the nest.

Inside, May-Lynne seemed to have woken up some and was firmly clamped, legs, arms and lips, around a tall, lean cowboy, who was equally pleased to see her. Another couple were arm in arm as they strolled out of the shadows and they were followed by a single man. Dean looked round at them all and he recognised his pack. He smiled at them.

The others clearly felt something too, but they were more suspicious. From the look of surprise on the cowboy’s face, he guessed who had been working the camera, but the others looked like they were waiting for a direction from their leader.

“People, this is Dean, he impressed me,” Kate told her subordinates and wrapped her arm firmly around his waist. “Dean this is, Ed,” the cowboy, who nodded, “Jamie and Maxine,” the couple seemed content with their queen’s choice, “and Luke,” who nodded and then looked over Kate’s shoulder.

“Where’s Becky?” he revealed his disappointment.

“Keeping an eye on a real treat,” Kate rumoured, her grip on Dean flexing. “We’ll fetch them tonight and then we celebrate a mating.”

There were whoops of surprise and joy at that announcement and Dean felt the exhilaration of the pack wash over him. He was a little distracted by it as the men came up to him, offering out their hands and slapping him on the back, and Kate was being leapt on by the girls. Then he was surprised when his mate and her pheromones were pulled away from him. She laughed as he pouted and she promised, “Tonight,” before the women dragged her off for what had to be girl talk.

* * *

When he had awoken from his stupor, Sam had at least found himself wrapped in his own bed blanket, and he had stayed like that, curled on his side in the uncomfortable little cage, and tried to sleep. He wasn’t alone this time, Becky was sleeping on a couch near the door, and Sam had not tried to formulate another escape plan, he was too tired and demoralised. Sleeping for him had come in fits and starts, since his body clock was all over the place. There was light coming under the door, had been since he’d woken up, but although his brain wanted to be awake, his body had other ideas.

Sam had no idea how much blood had been taken from him in the last two nights, not enough to impact his health, but enough to cow his defiance. He was sore in body and mind, and his outlook was bleak. He lay in the silence, blinking occasionally, but not seeing, and waiting for his next doze to catch up with him.

Hearing footsteps was not a positive thing for Sam, and so he closed his eyes and hoped Becky would not be bothering him. His disinterest meant that it was not until he heard the singing of a sharp blade through the air that he realised the footsteps had definitely been male. Sam sat up rapidly and was in time to see Becky’s head roll out from behind Dean’s poised body.

Sam didn’t believe what he was seeing, and he slammed into the back of the cage as his brother turned, blood-covered machete in his hand and began to walk towards him. Even when the knife was dumped on the way and Dean picked up a bundle from the bench, Sam stayed out of reach, his lessons having been harshly learnt.

“Afternoon, Sam,” Dean began in a pastiche of normal. “Don’t look so pissed, you’re getting out.”

Sam didn’t have any more words for this mockery of his brother, he seethed silently, holding himself tight against the back of the bars. Dean unlocked the cage and swung it open as before, but this time, he dumped the bundle on the floor in front of the opening and stepped back.

“Brought you some clothes,” Dean explained.

Repeatedly bitten, more than shy, Sam glowered silently and then he saw it, a break in normal on Dean’s face.

“I’m sorry, Sam,” his brother began gruffly, shoving his hands into his pockets like he did when he was feeling awkward. “I figured there was another nest, and the only way to find it was joining the pack.”

Sam almost believed what he was hearing, it sounded so like the brother he had known and trusted, but lines had been crossed that could not be uncrossed and he objected, “And you didn’t feel like sharing this plan?”

Dean stuck his head on one side and huffed, replying, “Sam, you’re about as subtle as a cheerleader on speed when you’re bitten. If I’d have told you, Kate would have known.”

“So you just used me as bait and to hell with what that did?” Sam snarled, angry and upset, with himself as well as Dean, because part of him was flooding with relief.

“If there had been another way, but we were low on options,” Dean argued, but there was guilt written all over his features.

Sam glared some more, still unwilling to give way.

“Come on, Sam,” Dean threw up his hands. “Get dressed. It’s a two hour drive back to that nest full of demons and the sun’s going down in three. It’s all over if they wake up and find me gone.”

The offer of revenge was more effective at getting Sam moving than anything else Dean had said, it was immediate and it bolstered what was left of his ego. He unwrapped himself from the blanket, came out of the cage and began to dress quickly. More self esteem slid back into place with the jeans and the t-shirt, and it was a much more confident Sam who then went back to glowering at his brother. The look that came back at Sam was somehow lost.

Brother regarded brother, vampire watched human and Sam could see how poised Dean was, he was on his toes. He watched dumbly, his anger interfering with thought and waited for the next move. Sam was half expecting it when Dean flew at him, the part which had felt so much relief at the new information, but the other half flinched as he was grabbed roughly and pulled against Dean’s body. Lips met his, nipping once, enough to draw a drop of blood, and Sam couldn’t help himself; the side of him predisposed to Dean took over and he let himself be flooded by the power that undoubtedly loved him. In those moments, Sam melted to the need and desire he felt come from his partner, responding strongly to the touch that battered down his pain: Dean was still his.

It ended too quickly; with a gasp and a push, Dean stepped away from the embrace that Sam knew could have gone on forever.

“Never again,” Dean promised.

Reality flooded back and irked Sam, and combined with the emotional rollercoaster Dean had inflicted on him, it was time for some minor revenge of his own. His emotions piqued, and before sense got the better of him, Sam swung a fist. Dean’s jaw was like iron again, and his already bruised knuckles made Sam swear, but his brother did have the decency to look shocked when the punch hit. Sam just glared then, breathing rapidly in and out of his nose and waited for some kind of response. Dean took his time, rubbing his jaw as he had the last time, but his look was totally different now.

“’Spose I deserved that,” he admitted, gruff with guilt again. “Now, can we go?”

Sam looked down at his feet - he was barefoot - and then back up at Dean.

Dean frowned, but not seriously and retorted, “I collected what I could, least the jeans fit.”

“These are vampire clothes?” Sam whined, as Dean turned and headed out of the machine shop.

“No, I stripped a catalogue model on the way here!” Dean quipped back and Sam smiled to himself as a familiar dynamic reset some of his equilibrium.

* * *

It was bright sunshine outside, and Dean, his jacket collar turned up, gloves on his hands, somebody else’s cowboy hat pulled down over his brow, and peering out from behind sun glasses, had not been Sam’s idea of a safe driver, and so he had taken the wheel, despite the fact that driving barefoot was a bitch. Therefore, Dean had spent most of the journey hunched over in the passenger seat, wincing and trying to keep all flesh out of the light. It was such a different image from the cock-sure vampire that after nearly two hours of hrmphs and hisses of breath, Sam eventually had to ask, “You alright, Dean?”

“Nothing I can’t handle,” Dean grumped back, adjusting the filthy hat he was wearing for the umpteenth time. “Just stings.”

“So what’s the plan?” Sam decided to focus their attention on something other than the discomfort both of them were in.

Considering he couldn’t see most of it, Sam deduced the look on Dean’s face just from the tilt of his head, it was the kind that asked, ‘You want me to do everything?’.

“Thinking on your feet again, Bro?” Sam checked.

“Been doing that for days,” Dean did not sound like his mood was going to improve anytime soon.

The sun was clearly not helping Dean’s demeanour and Sam needed at least a few sensible answers, so he took a quick decision: they were travelling fast down a road that looked like it had seen better days, but it did at least have one useful aspect, occasional clumps of trees. Sam slammed on the brakes and swung under the next group, which, as well as providing shade, had the added advantage of waking Dean up.

“Hey!” his brother objected as Sam turned off the engine and shifted in his seat to face Dean. “We don’t have time for this.”

Sam reached over, grabbed the battered hat and pulled it off so that he could at least see more of Dean’s face than before.

“We are making time,” Sam replied, taking charge. “Pen and paper in the glove box, we’re starting with a map of the layout.”

For a moment, Sam wondered if Dean was going to start yelling, the frown on his face was so complete, so he continued honestly, “You may be in with the pack, but I’m not. I am not walking into a nest without some idea of what I’ll find.”

The guilt was back on Dean’s face, and Sam saw the outline of eyes behind the glasses glance down at where his t-shirt did not cover the marks on his arm.

“You’re an anal s-o-b,” Dean complained then, but Sam was relieved when he reached for the glove box.

* * *

Walking in through the front door of a nest with your only ally’s hands fixed behind his back with cable tie might not have been everyone’s idea of a good plan, but it had made sense when Sam had suggested it. Now, Dean was more than a little anxious about the proposal, especially since every protective instinct he had was now firing about how vulnerable this was making his brother. Still, Sam had been sure it was the only way to get close, and there was no going back now, he could feel the pack and he was sure the pack would notice him soon: they were awake.

With the sun already going down, Dean pulled off his glasses and made one last check of Sam’s expression; it wasn’t a happy face that looked back at him, in fact, Dean could see fear underneath determination, but they’d been afraid before. He took firm hold of Sam’s arm, and then, with a nod, he kicked open the door.

“Hi, Honey, I’m home,” he called loudly and then dragged his resisting co-conspirator into the barn with him.

Ed and May-Lynne were lounging on a sofa, or rather, Ed was on the sofa, May-Lynne was on Ed, which seemed to be the way that particular relationship worked, and from the way the woman narrowed her eyes at Dean, he had interrupted an assignation. He grinned at the couple and then threw the hat and glasses back at the cowboy from whom he had borrowed them.

“Sorry for taking without asking, Slim,” he quipped jovially and then glanced Sam up and down and added, “I’ll make sure you get these back too, but couldn’t have the wunderkind here travelling in his briefs.”

That was it for early morning repartee, because there was a quick response to his call, bodies coming from all over the nest, and Kate was in the lead. Dean stayed passive as she came to a halt a few feet away and he couldn’t resist a leer as he sensed the vampire equivalent of a bitch in heat. Sam pulled against his hold as Kate then slowly stalked towards them, and Dean let go of his prisoner in favour of his queen. Her effect on his senses was distracting and arousing, and even if she was directing a large amount of anger at him, she was smouldering rather than scorching his senses.

“Why did you leave?” she asked, and there was a note of incomprehension in her voice which Dean could understand as his pack instincts welcomed him home.

“Couldn’t sleep,” Dean shrugged and the response was an immediate slap across the face.

That might have been it, and Dean was willing to let the affront slide if it meant he could get Sam safely to the pen where the vampires were keeping their victims. However, his lack of response brought another smack arcing his way and no-one hit him twice and got away with it. Dean caught Kate’s wrist in a firm grasp inches from his face and growled.

Dean had been prepared for some hostility when Sam had pointed out to his over optimism that the pack would probably have noticed he’d gone, but the switch that then occurred in Kate at his challenge was a complete surprise. One moment he was faced with a snarky bitch, the next, there was a woman in his arms demanding aggressive attention: so he wasn’t the only one being affected by the vampire pheromones. Dean let his base responses out to play and for once his love ‘em and leave ‘em attitude helped as he left Kate in no doubt that she was sex on legs. However, even better sex on legs was standing beside him, and reminded Dean of his presence by deriding, “You always did follow your dick around.”

There was real jealousy in Sam’s voice, but Dean took his cue anyway. He broke the kiss with Kate, grabbed Sam by the arm hard enough to make him grunt in pain, and then retorted testily, “Time to meet your roomies.”

Dean hauled Sam through the main room and round a corner where the pen of unfortunates were housed. There was movement of bodies to the back of the holding area at the approach of one of the nightmares, but Dean ignored them, reaching for the key and unlocking the gate. He shoved Sam forward, watching as he staggered into the pen, barely keeping his balance and for a moment, Dean worried: had they bitten off more than they could chew? However, Sam showed no such doubts, he came to a halt and then spun on his heel, rage in his demeanour.

“Bastard!” he snarled, and only Dean’s supernatural reactions got the gate closed before Sam slammed into it with, “I will kill you.”

“Not in there with your hands tied behind your back you won’t,” Dean quipped back.

Sam was still leaning on the wooden slats of the hefty barrier, but the face that was visible through the gaps showed sudden defeat and Dean covered any qualms he had with a laugh.

“Suck it up, Little Brother, I’ll be seeing you later,” Dean finished with the promise and then turned back to the pack, who had followed him.

* * *

‘Bastard, bastard, bastard,’ Sam thought as he watched Dean walk away and into Kate’s arms.

He knew the jealousy was ridiculous and costly, but he couldn’t help it, not now he knew the bond they had forged was very real. Still, that wasn’t the only reason he was swearing silently at his brother: Dean was supposed to have removed the cable tie on his wrists. Yet, petulance wasn’t going to help and there was a job to be done, so, beginning to work his wrists against the plastic as he had when he and Dean had played escape artists when they were children, Sam turned and regarded his newest companions. They looked back warily. It was a bad time for his skills to be active, but Sam could sense the fear around him, it was so thick.

There were six humans being kept by the vampires, all in various states of health. There were two pretty teenage girls sat in one corner, one was leaning heavily on the other, her eyes almost closed, and there were several makeshift bandages on her arms, legs and shoulders. The second girl looked in much better shape, but utterly terrified, even of Sam. Another teenager, a boy, was standing flat against the back of the pen, and his eyes had flicked back to outside after a momentary glance at Sam, a fixed stare of horror on his face. An older woman too turned her attention away from the newcomer, gazing hopelessly at the floor, which left two men, one in his twenties, Sam judged and one in his forties.

Since they were the only two still looking at him, Sam chose to address them and greeted tentatively, “Hello, I’m Sam.”

“You don’t want to be getting ‘em riled up like that,” the older man dispensed with introductions, walking over and pointing out at where they could hear the vampires laughing.

“They’ll just make you pay later,” the second man continued in the same vein, but then seemed to remember at least some sense of manners and introduced, “I’m Seth, this is Alan,” the older man, “Jimmy and Grace,” the older woman and the teenager, “and Yasmine and Lally,” the two girls.

“How long have you been here?” Sam carried on talking as his hands began to slip against the loosening tie.

“Yasmine’s been here longest, fortnight near as we can tell,” Alan shrugged, “but she don’t talk no more.”

Then the man’s eyes flicked over Sam’s obvious wounds and observed, “Looks like they been doing you some already.”

“I have history with those bloodsuckers, me, my brother and my father took out most of their nest last time we met,” Sam decided there was no time for chit chat.

“My sympathies,” Grace whispered nervously, but looked away again when Sam glanced at her.

“Don’t need sympathy, I just need you all to keep quiet,” Sam whispered, and with a grunt, his hands came free.

Instantly, he turned, pulling a lock picking set from his pocket, and headed over to the gate. He took a glance up the corridor, but from the sound of things, Dean had the pack busy, so Sam reached out and round the main strut of the gate and slid his tools into the lock.

“You don’t want to piss them off,” Alan hissed.

“Or what, I’m going to die?” Sam snapped back over his shoulder.

He softened as he saw the shocked look in the broken man’s face, but swiftly went back to his work with the reassurance, “I do this professionally. If you stay out of my and my brother’s way, you can walk away from this.”

There was a choked sob of hope from the back wall, it was Jimmy, but Seth crossed quickly and shoved a hand over his mouth.

“Where’s your brother at?” Alan asked.

“He’s the guy who threw me in here,” Sam revealed, knowing this conversation was going to get awkward if he couldn’t undo the lock soon.

“But he -,” Grace started.

“-is busy convincing them he’s one of the pack,” Sam finished and gratefully felt the lock give.

He turned back to the group then and put his finger across his lips, motioning for quiet. Alan didn’t look convinced, neither did Yasmine, but then she didn’t look much like she cared about anything. The others, though, took him at face value, and he promised, “I have to go get our weapons, then I need you all to stay back here and out of the way.”

“I want to fight,” Seth immediately announced in a whisper that could have been too loud.

Sam held up his hand and shook his head, but the man repeated in a hiss, “I want to fight.”

He wasn’t going to win this one, so Sam nodded, adding the caveat, “Alright, I’ll bring you a knife so you can protect the others – you have to decapitate a vampire to kill them.”

Seth seemed pacified.

“Okay, when I’m gone, keep the gate shut.”

Alan nodded, then Seth.

“Good luck,” Grace managed again and this time she was looking at Sam with so much hope it worried him.

He nodded one final time and then slipped out of the pen.


	7. Turnabout

“Where’s Becky?” Luke asked, not unsurprisingly.

“She wanted to bring the car,” Dean lied with a smile on his face and threw himself onto one of the old sofas that had been dumped around the main room, “and she wanted to wait till dark.”

“It was stolen anyhow,” Luke revealed and looked like he was missing his mate badly.

“I think she liked it, had style,” Dean countered and gained a snigger from Jamie and Maxine and a pout from Luke, so he added, “Don’t worry, that girl won’t miss a party.”

Dean took hold of the waistband of Kate’s jeans and pulled her down beside him, or at least that was his intention, but he ended up with an amorous bride in his lap, which made his hormones stand up and take notice. This was the creature who had tortured him and then done the worst thing in her power to him, but Dean could not stifle the lift in his libido that brought vampire instincts along with it. He was a killer now, like her, and his body knew it, even if his mind still battled with a conscience. Kate knelt either side of his legs, sat across his lap like she had done on and off throughout the torture session, but, despite any associations with the position, Dean began to rise to the occasion. Maybe he could have stopped the sensations running through his body when faced with his queen, but they might as well be useful in distracting the dangerous pack leader from what Sam had to be doing.

He was being offered leadership of the pack, Dean could see it in the way Kate was flirting with him, and in the wave after wave of undeniable attraction that she was throwing at him. The vampire in him wanted that, he needed to belong and become part of the group of his own kind, but the rest of him had bonded with Sam, and that was more important than anything Dean could sense from even his queen. Still, he smiled at the half coy, half sluttish way in which Kate was moving against him and ran his hands round her waist.

A shadow moved in the back of the barn, Dean caught it out of the corner of his eye, and he knew his brother was free. It was time for the hunt to begin.

“Beer’s in the back of the truck,” he announced loudly, pulling out his car keys and chucking them at Luke. “Becky won’t mind it we have a drink while we wait for her.”

There were grins and sounds of affirmation from the rest of the pack, all save for Luke, who was still grumpy about his missing mate, but since he was a low ranking member of the group, Dean settled a look on him which just begged for a challenge. Higher brain function or not, vampires, Dean decided there and then, were ruled by their baser instincts, because Luke backed down almost instantly, dropping his gaze and then heading towards the door. Dean smiled to himself: Sam had heard, Sam would know what he intended.

Kate laughed and ran her hands through her chosen’s hair as she observed, “Getting into the flow already, Baby.”

“You expect any less?” he snorted and then pulled her in for a kiss.

* * *

Ducking down one side of the truck, which had been parked a little distance from the barn deliberately, was all the plan for which Sam had time after running round the side of the building and retrieving the ready prepared bag of tools. He played with the machete in his hand, hoping his breathing was not loud enough to be detected and listening to the sound of slow footsteps coming towards him. He’d had little time to assess his opponent, just the brief look during his arrival, which had given him height and weight, but Sam was well aware that the first strike was going to have to be fatal.

He held his breath when the vampire’s footsteps ran down the nearside of the 4x4. There was no beer in the vehicle, and access to their weapons’ store was a dangerous thing, so as soon as Sam heard the lock click open, he was on his feet and flying at his opponent. Surprise was on his side and the knife was sharp; Sam barely felt the slice as the keen blade slid through sinew and bone, it’s only other touch on his senses the sing of the blade. The vampire’s body fell straight down behind the truck, his head rolled under it behind the back wheel.

Sam gritted his teeth and held back a growl of revenge. He hated these creatures, really hated them, like he hated the demon that had torn his world apart twice, and it was only survival instinct that kept him from picking up the bag of weapons and walking straight into the nest to do some more damage. He was a hunter, trained to take down these things, and he held onto that training with every sane thought he could: revenge would have to go slow.

* * *

Kate was a good kisser, and Dean liked to kiss, but he was liking the embrace with his would-be consort too much for his conscience. She was well aware of her affect on him and so was not impressed when he suddenly pushed her away. He frowned back at the glare he was given and decided it was time to point out that Luke was missing.

“Where’s the beer?” he asked and looked around at the other two couples, who had been engaged in a similar activity to himself (seemed that even after mating, vampires couldn’t keep their hands off each other).

Ed snorted, “Boy needs his beer. Looks like you ain’t enough of a distraction, Kate.”

“No,” Dean objected and, pushing his companion to one side, stood up and pressed, “it doesn’t take more than a minute out there and back, and Jimbob’s been gone at least five.”

At that, the pack was on their feet, united, and the wall of instinct to join hit Dean again. He ignored it and took charge by walking over to the door, the other’s trailing him. In a good impression of caution, he looked out into the darkness. Automatically, Dean’s vampiric senses came into play as he needed them, and his eyes adjusted from the inside light, the truck appearing out of the gloom.

“Luke, you out there?” Dean called, scanning the area as his pack expected him to.

The only answer was the sound of light hooves hitting earth at a rapid pace as nature, at least, noticed the presence of danger.

“Hell!” Ed surprised Dean as he chucked his hat on the ground and complained, “He’s gone running off after some jack rabbit ‘gain and he’s got the keys to our party. Over active son of a bitch can’t even concentrate on good booze.”

Dean glanced around at the generally pissed off faces of his pack. They did not look alarmed at all, and the turn of events was unexpected, but he could work with it.

“Does this a lot, does he?” he asked Kate, giving her a crooked smile.

“Ever since Becky turned him,” Kate replied with a shrug and a grimace out at the dark world. “Should have known she had shit taste in men after that dick we caught her with.” 

Dean let his smile straighten and then he announced, “Well, my Daddy taught me a whole lot of useful things, and if I can’t break into my own car, what kind of a son would I be?”

Ed whooped and slapped Dean on the back, and unwittingly lined himself up for being next on the hunt list, and it looked like May-Lynne was surgically attached to the cowboy’s side, so she went on there too. Dean winked at the couple, indicating for them to go out in front of him, and announced, “Let’s get this party started.”

Dean took one step after his two targets and found he had three companions: looked like now the pack was working together, they wanted to stay together. However, five nasties and two hunters, even one with supernatural speed and strength, were not good odds, and so Dean halted again. He took hold of Kate, pulling her into his body, and gave her his best come-to-bed smile.

“You got anything that passes as music in this place?” he asked, holding her close and rubbing at the base of her spine.

“Jamie hooked us up a radio to a car battery,” she replied, clearly distracted by Dean’s pawing, as she was supposed to be.

“How about you three go and fire up some tunes?” he purred. “We’ll get the beer and round up Davy Crocket.”

Kate’s smile said the ploy had worked, and she kissed Dean soundly before pulling back and finishing, “Don’t be long, Baby, I don’t wait.”

* * *

Sam’s teeth were still gritted as he shrunk behind the truck and listened to the con Dean was pulling. He risked a look at who was coming his way, and a sense of satisfaction grew from his belly. The tall one whose clothes he was wearing was just another vampire, but with May-Lynne, it was personal. Sam had felt her mind and he had suffered her bullying and he wanted to do damage in return. Yet, Sam wasn’t stupid, and he held himself taut, waiting for the go for whatever Dean had planned next.

“Nice truck,” he heard May-Lynne drool and he slid a little lower as the vampires walked down the other side of the vehicle.

“Preferred my chevy,” Dean replied, his footsteps faster than the other two and Sam grabbed a second machete from the bag as he judged his brother was headed round his side of the 4x4.

Dean didn’t even look down; as he walked past Sam’s hiding place, he just held out his hand and Sam slid the hilt of the knife into the waiting palm.

“Oh shit!” the cowboy let Sam know he had discovered the body and Sam couldn’t help a pique of triumph at the worry in the vampire’s voice.

“What’s up?” Dean trotted the last few paces.

“We got visitors,” May-Lynne snarled, her tone cold and holding no grief at all.

“Out there?” Dean was pointing out into the darkness.

“Don’t see nothin’,” the cowboy declared.

“Well, it wasn’t a jack rabbit did that,” Dean egged the tension on, standing just short of the back of the vehicle, his knife hanging slightly behind his right leg where Sam could see it.

Sam watched the blade swing a little and he knew Dean was getting ready to strike, so he poised himself to provide a quick backup. However, when his brother moved, it was faster than Sam could track. He scrabbled to standing, heading round the end of the truck as he did so, but he heard the swing of the blade, a grunt and another swing before he had even stood straight. Sam was sure neither of the vampires was still in contact with their head, and he felt an illogical frustration at that: he had wanted May-Lynne for himself. Sam was frowning when he came into view of the bodies, but what made him pause was the sight of Dean stood over the fallen, red-stained knife held expertly by his side and his eyes intent on the destruction around him. Sam had seen his brother after a hunt before, and occasionally they’d both been pumped by the excitement, but this time Dean was a picture of danger.

Sam wasn’t afraid of the wildness he saw and felt in front of him, he trusted it now and that left room for other emotions. His frustration at missing his chance at May-Lynne was still there, but it dwarfed, as, once again, his libido entered the frame.

“Keep it in your pants,” Dean chided, but there was a wicked smile on his face when he finally looked up from the bodies to Sam.

Sam grinned back; it shouldn’t have been a time for such indulgent humour, Dad had always taught them to be deadly serious on a hunt, but so much had changed in the last few days that the humour felt like a good outlet for the tension in Sam’s shoulders.

“You could have left me one,” Sam moaned not too seriously and kicked the boot of the headless cowboy.

“Don’t make it personal, Sammy,” Dean chided instantly, and caught Sam out when the smile was gone. “Remember what Dad always says, emotions get in the way.”

“Dad’s not here, and they’re the ones who made it personal,” Sam returned petulantly, but it was a strange comfort to be getting a lecture from his brother.

Dean was frowning at him, but Sam knew that he could not detach from this fight and one of the reasons he couldn’t was looking right into his eyes.

“I won’t let them get in the way,” he promised the worry in Dean, and pressed on, “So now what?”

“You shoot me with that crossbow,” Dean replied flatly and glanced down at the weapon poking out of the carryall.

Sam’s instant reaction was ‘no way’, but it didn’t come out of his mouth. Still, Dean read his face and countered the response with, “It can’t hurt me and I need to look like I only just got away.”

“The bolts are tipped with dead man’s blood,” Sam objected.

“Then we use a fresh one from the truck,” Dean was not going to be dissuaded, and Sam knew that stubborn streak, it came out when his brother was feeling as uncomfortable as he was.

The keys were still in the lock of the truck and it was Dean who quickly opened it and rummaged for spares. Sam didn’t want to shoot his brother, consequences or not; he’d shot him once before, and even though it had only been rock salt, that image of Dean winded by the impact had stayed with Sam in his dreams for a long time. He’d gathered enough nightmares in the last two days, and he didn’t want more. Yet necessity was a bitch, and when Dean came out of the trunk with a fresh crossbow bolt in his hand, his glare eventually made Sam reach down into the carryall.

Things went up a level when Dean handed Sam the bolt and then turned his back.

“Somewhere near my heart would be good, Sammy,” Dean’s tone was trying to be matter of fact, but Sam could hear the trepidation in his voice.

Sam slid the bolt into place and lifted the crossbow mainly in automatic, but when he had it lined up on Dean’s back, his heartbeat increased and his stomach lurched. He knew the rules about vampires, and he’d seen the monster in his brother, he’d been impressed and frightened by Dean’s power, but still there was a nagging doubt in Sam’s mind about a vampire’s invulnerability. His finger froze on the trigger and he couldn’t breathe properly: he couldn’t shoot his own brother in the back.

“Do it, Sam!” Dean snapped the order in a hiss, and Sam fell back on little brother obedience, letting his grip close on the pull.

The lurch in Sam’s gut became full blown nausea as he heard the bolt slice through Dean’s body and his brother grunted in pain.

“Dean?” Sam asked quickly, half expecting Dean to hit the ground.

However, Dean only took a couple of staggered steps forward, breathing hard and looking down at the bolt in his chest.

“Hell of a feeling,” came the offhand comment that covered the disquiet Sam could more than see in Dean.

Sam’s gut kept on churning and hot and cold ran up and down his spine; he’d seen so much evidence of the vampire in Dean already, but to see his brother with an arrow through his body with no more than shock in his movements was pushing Sam to freak out levels. Dean hadn’t turned round, some of him wanted his brother to turn around to see his face, but the rest of him did not want to see the front of the wound he had caused.

“Get going, Sam,” Dean provided a kick start to the hunter in Sam. “Go in back, I’ll distract them in front, see you inside.”

“See you inside,” Sam repeated at his brother’s back and then turned, grabbing the weapons’ bag and sprinting off before his emotions got the better of him.

* * *

Dean listened to Sam run away from him and looked down at the sign of his immortality again. It had hurt going in, but the discomfort was mainly immaterial to his brain that was trying to cope with not dying. He took in a few more deep breaths, just to reassure himself that he was still alive and to calm the panic he hadn’t allowed himself to feel since waking up tied to his bed: he was going to kill that bitch, Kate. He looked up at the doorway to the nest, waited a while longer to make sure Sam was gone from view, and then ran full pelt at the entrance.

The vampire covered the distance in a few heart beats and went skidding in through the front door, dropping the machete as he threw himself at the ground.

“Hunters!” he growled, lifting his upper body with one arm and grabbing the arrow in his chest with his other hand.

Kate was by his side in seconds and he looked into her face and lied, “Six or eight. They ambushed us. Got Ed and May-Lynne straight out, but I got one of ‘em back.”

He patted the machete like it was a prize and showed his queen his teeth.

“Would have got another, but his buddy tried to pin me to the truck with this.”

There wasn’t a flicker of doubt on Kate’s face, but it did set into a maddened grimace. When she took hold of the bolt in his chest, Dean started and then only shock clamping his jaws together stopped him from screaming, as, violently, she ripped the thing out of his body. Dean slumped into the woman’s arms, his head on her shoulder, as the arrow cleared his body, coughing and shaking with the aftermath.

“You’ll stop feeling it after a few years,” she told him unsympathetically, and pushed him away as she barked at the other two, “Barricade the door.”

Dean stayed where he was on the floor as the others moved around him, letting the shock disperse. Kate did not help her subordinates bar the door, but she stood, planting herself in front of Dean, hands on her hips, and she did not look pleased.

“Your carelessness led them here,” she accused.

Climbing to his feet and grabbing the machete once more, Dean faced the anger in his queen and replied, “I am never careless. Has to be my Dad put them on to us. He’s a wily son of a bitch with a lot of friends in low places. When Sammy didn’t go visit yesterday...”

“What do we do?” Maxine sounded scared, and she was hanging on to Jamie’s arm out of more than just a mate’s desire this time.

Dean was suddenly fixed by another grimace from Kate, and it wasn’t all anger. Her eyes were flashing with power and Dean could feel the vampire she still had hidden. He bared his teeth in a hard smile, all his instincts firing despite his knowledge of the deception, ready for the battle that would not be with any hunter. Kate grimaced back at him and, drawing in a deep breath, she announced thickly, “We fight, little girl.”


	8. Battle

Sam slipped his lean body through the couple of broken slats he had found at the back of the large barn, but the bulky weapons bag was trickier, and the rough wood caught on it. Carefully, Sam dragged the heavy cloth carryall through the gap, watching the wood bow as it snagged the bag and making sure it made no loud snapping noises. He was so intent on the smooth action, that when the bag finally cleared the hole, he took a few rapid paces back with the sudden freedom. Sam caught himself, both mentally and physically, his brain still trying to cope with the condition in which he had left Dean. He knew he couldn’t afford the distracting thoughts and so he clamped down on everything. Sam’s face was set hard into a hunting grimace when he finally moved off to make good on a promise.

The larder was still stocked with anxious-looking mortals huddled at the back of it when Sam reached the gate, but Seth crossed the small area in one stride at his arrival. The man looked angry and ready for revenge: neither were good emotions if this fight was to go the right way, but the same feelings were churning Sam’s stomach, even if his mind was denying them. Quickly, Sam ducked back into the pen, pushing Seth away from the front and into the shadows. He put the bag on the ground and crouched down to reach into it.

“Your brother’s put that lot on alert, I heard him,” Seth hissed, dropping to Sam’s level.

“What did he say?” Sam asked, recognising the misunderstanding in the man and pausing his weapon’s selection in favour of preventing Seth from doing something they’d both regret.

“Hunters outside,” came the reply.

Sam could see hope in his companion’s eyes at the mention of backup, and part of him did not want to dash those hopes, but he couldn’t let the deception affect what he had to do, so he countered, “No hunters, just us, but now they’re looking for an attack from outside, not in.”

Sam quickly handed Seth one of the collection of knives in the bag, and then focused on arming the crossbow, rather than on the mix of emotions he didn’t want to see. He then slung the quiver of bolts over his shoulder, grabbed the final machete and stood up, turning as he did so.

“Stay here and protect them,” Sam ordered his second, waving a hand in the direction of the other captives. “Whatever you hear, don’t come out until I tell you it’s safe.”

“I want to fight,” Seth immediately argued, stepping round the bag and right up to Sam, brandishing the knife.

Sam had no time for niceties, so he cut back, “You’ll just get in the way and get me or my brother killed.”

That went straight for what was left of the other man’s ego, and Sam could see resentment flare, so he argued again, “They need you more than we do,” he glanced over at the clearly frightened group of people. “If one of those things goes psycho and comes down here, I need someone to get in its way.”

Seth accepted that argument better than the first, although the ghost of the first was still in his demeanour. Still, the man nodded, and Sam was satisfied he wouldn’t have to start protecting an inept human as well as downing the vampires. Sam gave him a nod back, then looked round at his other companions. There was nothing to be said, but for those who met his gaze, Sam showed them his determination. 

Crossbow in one hand, knife in the other, Sam left the larder and cautiously made his way up towards the main room. Sam’s heart thundered like it was trying to beat its way out of his chest, and his gut was in knots. Hunting always got the adrenaline pumping, but this time was different, the consequences were very personal and everything was on overdrive. Maybe it was because Dean was just the other side of the thin dividing wall, or maybe it was the changes his brother had already inspired in him, but Sam’s senses opened more and more the closer he came to the fight and his head was thick with vampire.

When he reached the end of the partition wall, Sam leant his back up against it and steadied himself. He paused there, trying to gauge the kind of activity he could hear. For once, the part of Sam that wanted to hang onto normal did not get in the way of his supernatural skills and he soaked up the input, trusting his mind to assimilate what it could. His memory of the main room overlaid the unusual sensations and the result was not exactly a picture of the scene behind the wall, but Sam was pretty sure of the positions of all four vampires, and which one was Dean.

With such strange input and his pulse racing, the world was becoming a heady place for Sam, so he flattened himself further against the wall, closed his eyes and concentrated on his other senses. There in the centre of them all was Dean’s presence; Sam had always known in every hunt that he had Dean by his side as back up, but this time, as he let the essence of his bonded partner slip through his senses, that knowledge calmed his heartbeat and strengthened his resolve. He concentrated on the power he sensed and the companionship he needed and waited for Dean’s lead.

* * *

Dean was helping Jamie block the main escape route by putting one of the sofas in front of it when he felt Sam’s touch. He almost dropped his end of the couch as the feeling of closeness made sense suggest his brother had to be in the room already, but the strangeness of the last few days beat down the mortal instincts, and all Dean showed was a grimace as he slammed down the barricade.

“Still hurtin’ you?” Jamie took the expression as a reference to the wound that had spilled blood all down Dean’s t-shirt.

Dean nodded curtly and put a hand over the already healing hole in his chest; it was aching, like his wrist had ached during its healing, but he was trying to ignore the sensation of tissue re-knitting itself with supernatural speed. He turned away from Jamie and couldn’t help a glance over at where he knew Sam was standing; he didn’t have x-ray vision, but Dean knew his human would be ready when he called.

However, as with the odd feelings in his chest, Dean forced himself to ignore the presence in his head and focused back on Kate. The woman was stood in the centre of the room, looking at the crossbow bolt and the machete. Her nostrils were flaring and Dean could feel her blood lust even halfway across the room; however, it took him a moment to realise the implications of what the vampire was doing. Quickly, he began to stride over to the wily creature, but his heart was sinking as he did so. He reached out for the machete as casually as possible, hoping against hope she’d just hand it over. However, hope was not on Dean’s side.

Instead of returning the weapon to Dean, Kate raised it closer to her face and her tongue flicked out to the blade. Instantly, her face creased into a grimace and she spat. Dean stopped a few feet away and faced the anger in his queen as she looked up at him and accused, “This is vampire blood, not human.”

“I took it off the one I sixed,” Dean replied, thinking quickly, but he knew by the flashing of Kate’s eyes that it probably wouldn’t be enough.

It wasn’t.

Dean stayed very still when the machete came to rest on his shoulder, very close to his jugular, and Kate accused, “No human blood on this knife at all and more than one vampire.”

Dean had not had enough experience of blood to know that it came in different flavours, and the fact that Kate’s taste buds were that sensitive made him pause in his argument.

“Eight hunters and this one got at least two of my pack?” Kate was not stupid, and Dean knew the ruse was at an end.

“Well, I could tell you he was just lucky,” Dean grinned, covering the kick in the pants he wanted to give himself for letting the knife out of his hand, “but you know I’d be lying.”

“Why?” Kate’s incomprehension, Dean judged, saved him from a swift beheading.

What was left of his pack were now standing around him, and part of Dean was asking the same question. His queen was also sparking drives in him that could have drawn him back into the fold, even then, and the crazy thing was, Dean was almost certain he would have been forgiven if he chose to turn once more. Yet, the fickle nature of his instincts could not beat down the presence that was running through him, even more addictive than blood, and Dean began to understand why vampires mated for life.

“Cleaning house,” Dean answered evasively, hardening his stance and his expression. “They were all Luthor’s.”

“Only May-Lynne,” Kate was still clearly torn between her promise to mate and the ruthless revelation from the object of her latest obsession.

“The others too, all linked through the girls to his time,” Dean countered knowing his opponent’s confusion was his only hope of getting the knife off her.

“And us?” Jamie asked in a growl.

Both Dean and Kate glared at the man, who had intruded on their encounter. He was now close to Maxine, and, for a moment, he glared back, but the pack hierarchy was not something he could defy and so, with both alphas glowering at him, his gaze dropped reluctantly to the floor.

“Mine,” Kate spoke quickly and possessively, and Dean couldn’t help a smile.

“Yours,” he acknowledged, returning his attention to his queen, softening the tones in his voice and risking a slow move to reach out to her wrist.

Yet, Kate revealed she wasn’t all pheromones and libido, because the machete shifted on his shoulder, pressing against his neck, and Dean came to a halt again, halfway to his goal. Passively, he opened his stance, keeping the palm upward and away from his body, knowing he needed to get the knife away from his neck before he called on Sam.

“What’s it gonna be, Honey?” he pressed, half charm, half dominance.

“You killed Becky too?” Kate checked, and Dean was in awe of the callous side of the she-bitch that seemed to be attracted to his improvised impersonation of a lion taking over a pride.

“No ties to the past,” he continued and locked gazes with the dominant female.

This wasn’t about the gift of the gab anymore, words wouldn’t work now, only base behaviour was going to remove the blade from his neck. As he turned on the alpha male instincts, Dean’s gums began to ache, and he let his vampire shift to the surface. Kate frowned at the open dominance, but she did not deny it and the rush inside was incredible when, for the first time, Dean felt his queen follow him into their supernature. A second later, and both of his subordinates came too. It was a risk: like this, their senses were even more acute, and their reactions faster, but Dean needed the edge of instinct, and he grimaced a smile as the power ran through him. He was master here now, he could have anything he wanted and for a moment, Dean indulged that idea.

Yet a price had to be paid.

* * *

Sam gritted his teeth and hung on to sanity with every ounce of willpower he had left. From his connection to Dean, the essence of four vampires was running through his mortal senses, where he had not even been able to fully handle one. He wanted to scream and attack these creatures as their black hearts tainted his own, but he hung on to the knowledge that Dean was in danger and this was the only way out. In the dark place to which the experience was taking him, Sam had only one rock to which he could cling, the presence of his brother. The wild nature to which he had made his primary link lifted him above the depravity of the others, just barely, and Sam focused desperately on that power.

* * *

Keeping his queen distracted with her own desires and his authority, Dean slowly began to reach once more to relieve Kate of the machete. He moved carefully, well aware of the danger in Kate’s demeanour. One moment, the woman was frowning in loathing, the next small snorts of lust were coming from her, and both emotions could get him killed. Dean went with the flow of instinct and need, ignoring all else and drawing Kate further in; all that mattered at that moment was survival, revenge and Sam taking a back seat. So close, and yet Dean knew millimetres could still mean death.

* * *

Death and life and energies he could not understand drowned Sam and he began to shake with the input. The whine made it out of his mouth without his consent and he clamped down on it immediately, but he felt vampire power pique at the tiny noise and he knew he’d blown it.

* * *

Dean heard the sound of pain from Sam the same moment that Kate did and the rest of the world came flooding back in. He shifted quickly, but with the knife already at his neck, she was faster in reinstating the threat and so he froze, blade teasing the hairs close to his jaw-line.

“Nice try,” she acknowledged, all hint of subservience gone, “but there’s someone you left out.”

Dean grimaced, regretting his choice of persuasion now he was noting the consequences on Sam. The game was up, and from the sound and the feel of him, Sam was in no condition to make a run for it. He let his vampire go and was surprised when Kate did the same.

“Sammy,” Kate called, her tone condescending and worryingly playful, “are we too much for you?”

* * *

There was no use holding his pain inside now, so Sam vented it as quickly as he could in a growl through gritted teeth. He'd given himself away and now he had to clear his head, or he was going to die very soon. With his discovery, the input had eased, and he shook his head, trying to bring back his normal senses at least.

“Come out, Sammy, or I’ll remove Dean’s head right now,” Kate was teasing him, but at least that meant she hadn’t decapitated Dean.

Forcing away the disorientation that the onslaught had generated, Sam pushed himself away from the wall and, turning to face his opponents, stepped out from behind the dividing wall. He took note of the two vampires he didn’t know, but they were, for the moment, unimportant, because all his attention went to the way Kate was holding the machete too close to Dean’s jugular for comfort. She was facing Dean, but with a flick of her head, she indicated for him to turn and then Sam was facing his brother while Kate remained behind and slightly to the side.

Dean in danger caused a reaction in Sam he couldn’t control and he flexed his hold on his own knife as his emotions reacted before his head.

Kate laughed at the minor threat and then tutted: Sam couldn’t help himself, he growled again, partly because of the left over nasty in his head and partly at the very real nasty in front of him.

“Looks like we’ve got Sammy all riled up, Baby,” Kate taunted, rubbing her hand over Dean’s shoulder in a mockery of possession.

Sam sensed the attraction coming off the vampire, and it was firing every instinct he had. It was as overwhelming as the vampire flood, but this time it was all self-generated, and Sam did not try to block it. Kate didn’t see the danger.

“Wow, Boy, you’re giving off vibes that make me hungry,” the woman laughed, and then the vampire in her appeared.

That was the last straw for Sam’s battered mind and his skills came to his aid: he didn’t need to look, his first gaze round the room had seen the couch at the door, and his thoughts grabbed hold of it. He saw it slide rapidly forward out of the corner of his vision and his finger closed on the crossbow’s trigger simultaneously. Sam was so centred on his brother that he saw Dean’s eyes widen as the bolt left the bow. After that, he was forced to drop his attention as he discarded the crossbow and ran forward, machete raised and more than ready for a fight.

* * *

Under other circumstances, the pique in Sam’s mojo would have been enough to have Dean ripping at Sam’s clothes and demanding sex. As it was, when the crossbow bolt came flying in his direction, Dean’s libido took second place, and he had enough sense of self preservation to want to move, so did Kate, and, thankfully she was too distracted by shifting out of the way to make good on the threat of beheading. The poison-tipped arrow flew past Dean’s right ear and missed Kate by a similar amount, shooting between them and into the back wall. However, as the sofa contacted with Maxine and Jamie, Dean concentrated on the threat next to him, spun on his heel and went for the machete while his opponent was off balance.

Kate moved fast enough to prevent Dean from just taking the weapon, but as he closed in on her, he did manage to grab her wrist. His other hand went for the vampire’s neck and then Dean used his extra height and strength to force the snarling woman back towards a wall. Finally, Dean let out his want for revenge, and it was with teeth bared and rabid anger in his eyes that he slammed his torturer into the wooden wall. A cracking sound accompanied the impact, and the panelling split, but it did not give all the way, and so Dean held Kate there, continuing to slam the hand with the machete into the unforgiving wood.

His opponent didn’t seem to be showing any sign of pain, that was until Dean gave up on the smashing and instead closed his fingers into a vice around the woman’s wrist. Another cracking sound, but this time it was not wood, and with a gasp of agony, Kate dropped the machete.

“Still feeling it?” Dean taunted through gritted teeth and carried on squeezing.

“Dean!” Sam yelled, his voice strangled; then there was a snarl and Sam grunted in discomfort.

The warning was enough for Dean to note the approach of another fighter, but was not in time to stop Maxine from leaping onto his back, snarling, scratching and trying to bite. Dean released Kate and, sure in his own power, his growl was more one of annoyance than concern when he reached for the test of his patience.

* * *

The couch slamming into them had only distracted the other two vampires for so long, but Sam didn’t care. As they both began scrabbling to their feet, he continued his charge, weapon at the ready and mad as hell. It wasn’t until the male creature snatched him off his feet, lifting him into the air, that Sam remembered he was mortal. The force of the movements knocked the machete out of his hand, so Sam went at the vampire’s shoulders and head with his fists and wrestled with the grip that had come round his torso, squeezing dangerously.

It was then that his captor’s partner decided one vampire was enough for any human, and Sam saw her turn to the other fight. He yelled a warning, or at least he tried to, but he wasn’t sure what he said, since he was too distracted by the way the life was being squeezed out of him while his fists bounced off what felt like steel. This vampire was playing, it could have broken his neck at any moment, but the look on its face, still with human aspect, told Sam he was a new cat toy. Sam grabbed his opponent’s face and went for the only vulnerable spot in reach, he stuffed his thumbs into the man’s eyes.

The vampire snarled in pain, and the hold on his ribs increased to near breaking point, which forced the rest of the air out of Sam’s lungs in a rapid groan, but he persisted in his attack and shortly, the pressure eased up. The alternative to being squeezed to death was not much fun either, as Sam found himself flying through the air. He slammed into a wall all too quickly, and only his marital arts training on how to fall absorbed enough of the impact not to smash any bones, and then he landed in a winded, disoriented pile at the bottom of the wall.

“Wunderkindt, my ass,” the vampire muttered, and then from his crumpled heap staring at the ground, Sam saw feet coming rapidly toward him.

* * *

Maxine was an inconvenience more than a threat: she was young and her fighting skills were mere random uses of what Kate’s power had given her. Dean took hold of what he could reach and dumped her off his back in a few seconds, throwing her down on a table that stood to his right. She hit hard, letting out a breathy yelp and, for a moment, stopped moving, so Dean went back to his real quarry. What he saw when he centred back on Kate was the woman sunk at the bottom of the wall and reaching for the discarded machete. Dean dove at the weapon, sliding past his enemy and as his fingers closed around handle, he shifted the rest of his momentum into a roll and was back on his feet in a heartbeat.

“You shouldn’t play with sharp objects,” he lorded over Kate, raising the weapon for a strike, “someone could get hurt.”

Dean’s anger welled up inside him again: he wanted this thing to suffer the way he had, he wanted her to know what it was like to be powerless and afraid. He paused before his strike, wanting to see fear of death in his enemy’s eyes, searching for it. That indulgence cost him his chance, because a scream came from off to his right, and then Maxine centred another assault just on his hand holding the knife.

Teeth dug into the side of his hand and Dean cried out in shock more than pain. It was not enough to make him let go of the machete, but it stopped his swing as he found himself with a slight, angry vampire hanging off his arm. Dean lifted her off the ground easily, her teeth and a grip like iron keeping her attached to him. Still not finding enough to make him worry about this pathetic attempt at attack, Dean shook his arm to try to loosen the grip Maxine’s teeth had in his flesh.

“Young ladies don’t bite,” he found time for a quip while reaching up and transferring the machete to his left hand.

No reaction, so Dean smashed the handle of the knife against his annoyance’s skull, and with a ripping sound that brought with it enough pain to make him swear, Dean relieved himself of his burden and a chunk of his hand. Maxine landed heavily, staggering backwards with the daze Dean had given her, blood dribbling freely from her mouth. The monster underneath had taken over the pretty young woman, and she bared her vampire teeth at Dean, her senses returning. Literally once bitten, Dean did not give her a chance for a full recovery, he swung and knife sliced through neck.

* * *

Sam’s head thumped into the wall for the umpteenth time as the cat played with its toy. Without a weapon, his kicks and punches were pretty ineffectual, and the vampire was doing a very good job of distracting him from hitting out by making him see stars. Concussion would have been on the agenda, but a scream of what Sam judged as anger came from Kate and suddenly he was being dropped.

“No!” his attacker yelled, leaving Sam to collapse at the bottom of the wall once more.

Sam watched the once pretty red head roll away from its body and allowed himself a moment of satisfaction. Yet, as the body fell, the vampire’s mate began to move as well, and Dean may have been good, but, from his position, Sam could also see Kate rallying. He took the adrenaline burst from his brother’s success and aimed it at the second machete, which was lying in the middle of the room. Sam still did not have much control, but the knife lifted off the ground and flew, more or less in the direction he had intended. Its attitude was such that it was not going to slice off any heads, but the blade carved itself deep into the male vampire’s chest, knocking the creature backwards with its force.

The vampire grunted, at least superficially in pain, and kept staggering backwards. Sam scrabbled to his feet, pushing himself away from the wall with all the strength he had left. He went for the handle of the machete, knowing he did not have much time before the shock of the impact wore off. There was a sickening sound of tearing flesh as he took hold of the knife and pulled it out of his opponent, and Sam’s stomach turned, but he had no time for his own sentiments. Totally focused on destroying this abhorrence and using the momentum of his pull, Sam turned a full circle, and, knife held in both hands, he aimed it properly this time. Head left torso and Sam sagged, exhausted both in body and mind, as he watched the vampire fall for the last time.

* * *

There was no time to indulge in gloating over Maxine’s corpse for Dean; he heard Jamie’s yell and was well aware that Kate’s wrist had to have recovered by now, and so he turned in time to see a machete bury itself in Jamie’s chest. The pique of mojo from Sam was way over the top for such a small object, if the couch had been anything to go by, but, whether Sam was aware of his effect on Dean or not, the mental spike revved up Dean’s instincts to vamp out levels. Dean’s senses dropped their human façade and he was well aware of Kate shifting her position. He could have swung at her then, finished it, but that was not what he wanted, and so he dropped the knife, claws and teeth the only weapons he wanted as he turned to face his queen’s wrath.

Kate had a harpie’s scream on her lips as she charged at Dean. He smiled at her, excited and mad all at the same time, and just went with the impact of her body, which sent them both toppling towards the floor. He landed hard with a scratching, kicking vixen on top of him, and her claws sliced through his shirt and deep into his chest, but Dean could find no sense of urgency to reply: he was going to take his time with this bitch.

When her claws came too close to his jugular, a swift smack with the ball of his palm on his opponent’s chin sent Kate flying off him. It would have broken a mortal’s neck, but Kate just landed on her back and rolled over to right herself immediately. Dean, too, shifted onto all fours and cocked his head at the seething mass of hate he was facing.

“Why that?” Kate surprised him with her continuing incomprehension as she glanced over at where Sam was stood with his back to them.

“And not you? We both know Sammy has his attractions, and so do you, believe me, I’ve felt ‘em,” Dean indulged the question, smiling easily at first, but then his anger caught up with him, and he curled his lip in a totally different way as he snarled, “but Honey, you’re the mad bitch who tortured me to death. You work it out.”

Dean saw anger flare in Kate over incredulity and this time, he moved first. She barely had time to try a swipe at him before he grabbed her wrists and forced her down onto the ground. He pinned her there, his body straddling hers, and indulged his libido. He didn’t want this creature any more, he had never really wanted her at any level that mattered, but that didn’t stop his basest wants from showing as power met power.

Master of the fight, Dean paused in that dominance, glowering down on his victim. This she-demon had made him a monster and Dean was more than ready to use the talents she had given him. The agonies through which she had dragged him, both mental and physical, came back to haunt Dean as he looked into the eyes of the nightmare who had created him. She was afraid now, at last, and maybe she understood what she had done, or maybe not, Dean didn’t really care, all he wanted to do was hurt her.

“Dean, no,” Sam’s voice was calm, eerily so as it slipped into the melee of emotions that had taken hold of Dean and it pulled him back from madness.

* * *

He’d turned and watched his brother’s fight descend into revenge, and Sam knew all about that need, which had been burning in his heart since Jess’ death. Yet there was retribution and then there was what Sam was witnessing, something with which he knew that his brother would never be able to live. Sam’s own emotions were boiling still, he wanted these monsters dead as well, but enough was enough.

The rage in Dean, that was barely visible at the surface, had run through Sam like a hot knife through butter, and he had spoken directly to it. He was faced with it then, when Dean looked across at him, teeth bared and vampire all too obvious. Sam wasn’t sure what should happen next, he just knew this could not go on, and so he maintained an even stare, hoping Dean would work it out.

However, it was not Dean who took advantage of the sudden stalemate, it was Kate. With a kick and a scream, she pushed Dean off balance and then she was on her feet with supernatural speed. Sam knew he was her target, if her actions were too fast for him to follow, her mind was not, and he was very familiar with jealousy. He should have been history, easy prey for the speed of a vampire, but Sam did not meet Kate’s attack like a normal human. He could not track her position with his eyes as she closed the gap between them, but his skills were more than quick enough. Sam ran on instinct, lifting the machete still in his hand and swinging at what was empty space. Yet, suddenly, it was not empty anymore, and his blade cut through startled flesh.

Sam closed his eyes, sick and unsteady, as his knife cleared flesh. He heard head and body fall, he knew it was finally over, and he just wanted the world to go away. Yet, as he dropped his weapon and waited for reality to fade away, a man’s yell of hatred brought Sam right back into the thick of things. He opened his eyes in time to see Seth charging at Dean, who was slowly righting himself in what looked like a similar daze to Sam’s. Dean’s vampire was in full force, and it was at that face that Seth’s machete was aimed.

The daze dropped away from Sam far faster than it seemed from Dean, and his senses went into defensive overdrive.

“No!” he yelled, his voice hard and angry and his mind followed.

Seth was a victim, at some level, Sam knew that, and so his defensiveness aimed itself at the knife in the man’s hand, ripping it from the grip and sending it sailing at the nearest wall. Seth froze, staring at where the blade embedded itself into the wood, and there was fear in his eyes. Slowly, the man’s gaze came to rest on Sam, who glared back at him, angry at the attempt on his brother’s life.

“There’s a van outside, take the others, get out of here and forget this ever happened,” he ordered.

Seth glanced from brother to brother, clearly still afraid, but Sam lost interest in him as he met gazes with Dean and he knew this was not over yet.


	9. Aftermath

Humans ran between them, some crying, others just plain terrified, but they were unimportant to Dean. He was surrounded by the bodies of his pack, and his queen was lying at the feet of the reason he had abandoned the most basic needs in his being. The vampire was glad when the mortals had gone, the sound of an old engine screaming into the distance at speed, and he was left to concentrate on the passive stance opposite him. Sam: brother once, lover now, and Dean needed to be sure that he had made the right decision.

Whether Sam understood the look he was being given, or not, he was standing very still when Dean crossed the room in a blur. His vampire was still in force, and Dean did not ask, he demanded: he grabbed Sam by the scruff of his neck and dragged him into a kiss. He nipped the lips that he forced against his own and the reaction, as before, was almost instantaneous; once the blood link had been re-established, Sam flowed into him and the body close by moulded to his want. Sam pressed close, reaching back for as much contact as possible, but Dean wanted still more, and so he pushed them up against the wall behind Sam.

Sam sank a little in height as Dean forced him against the panelling and he pushed back against Dean’s torso while his mind sliced through all of Dean’s senses. Dean was hard in seconds and from the feel of him, so was Sam. The feeling of natural and supernatural that was mixing in his lover was sensational, and Dean knew he had made the right choice. Now, he was going to show Sam how right it was.

Dean pressed his hip against Sam’s groin and the sound of pleasure was unmistakable, even through the kiss. From the way he was gripping Dean’s shoulders and the riot of sensation that was coming off Sam in waves, Dean figured his lover was going to lose it sometime soon. That made him smile, he liked this abandon he inspired in Sam, and he teased it by breaking the kiss. As soon as he did, Sam tipped his head back against the wall, eyes closed, panting and repeating small moans and groans for every shift of body on body. Sam was beautiful so out of control, and Dean watched the furrows that appeared and disappeared on Sam’s brow as he just reacted.

“Easy, Sammy,” he soothed as he had in the bedroom, partly in awe of the power that was running through them both.

Sam’s frown deepened, but he did not open his eyes, only whined wordlessly. It looked like his partner was going places with or without him, so Dean responded by reaching for the bottom of Sam’s t-shirt. Instantly, Sam raised his arms above his head and eagerly helped with the swift removal of that clothing. T-shirt gone, Sam flattened himself against the wall, hands taking invisible grips out away from his body, and his heartbeat was singing in Dean’s ears. Life was on offer before him, at his mercy, and that spoke to the dark side of the power Kate had given him. There was no denying it, so Dean just embraced the feeling and let it build his arousal. Sam must have felt it too, because he mewed again, but it was not in fear.

Dean ran his claws down the sides of Sam’s torso, making red lines, but not drawing blood, and from the way Sam writhed under the touch, he guessed he liked it. However, Dean’s destination was Sam’s pants, and Sam reared into his touch as he dipped his nails below the waistline on the way to the fly.

“Hold on, Sam,” Dean urged, knowing he had to work fast to keep up with the raging instincts in his brother.

“You try it from this side,” Sam snarled through gritted teeth, but the petulance was followed by a sigh and a pant that was anything but annoyed.

Dean chuckled, but unzipped the jeans quickly. No time for gentle, he pushed all of Sam’s clothing down round his knees and reached up between Sam’s legs. Sam reared again, and the strangled sound on his lips said he was about to go over the edge, but Dean pressed his fingers in a wonderful spot one girlfriend had introduced him to, and Sam yelled in shock, but did not ejaculate.

“Bastard!” Sam swore through gasps and shivers, and Dean found hands gripping his shoulders very tightly.

“I can be a lot worse than that,” Dean promised in a whisper against Sam’s ear, and fingers dug into his collar bone as the message went home.

“Stay with me, Sammy,” Dean tempted, and then looked down at the prize he had freed.

Sam was hard as a rock and Dean could smell the sex on him. He couldn’t help himself, he licked his lips, and then sunk to his knees. Sam was ready to come, tricks and tips, or not, and Dean wanted to taste that power, inside and out. Finesse could wait till later, unceremoniously, Dean wrapped his lips around the head of Sam’s cock. A few strokes of mouth and hot tongue and Sam was coming hard and fast.

Out of control human swept through him and the taste of sex hit the back of Dean’s throat. He swallowed, claiming his rite and basking in the hit that was Samuel Winchester. Sam’s blood and his cum both tasted uniquely of him, but the flavour of sex brought with it an arousal that had Dean’s instincts raging. Dean savoured the moment; holding on to his prize and maintaining his mastery as Sam slowly came down. However, Sam descended from the high very rapidly, and kept going past the point of normal response, his knees beginning to buckle.

Dean stood quickly, and pushed himself against Sam’s failing body, stopping the drop to the floor. Sam’s eyes were almost closed when he looked across at his prop, but Dean was glad to see some cognisance there. He grinned, the cat with the cream, and teased, “You always this loop the loop, Sam?”

Sam snorted and then leant his head forward onto Dean’s shoulder. Then he surprised Dean as he invited with much more presence than his bodily reaction would have suggested, “Fuck me already.”

* * *

Dean was in charge, he was almost sure of it, but the way Sam had pushed him away, stepped out of his unkempt clothing and had begun to back deeper into the barn, wearing nothing but a come hither smile, had made him think twice about whose libido was ruling who. Sweaty and flushed from his first orgasm, Sam was more than attractive, and he revealed another string to his bow when suddenly there was a message in Dean’s head, it was more than words, lust and desire came with it and Dean’s dick ached in his pants as he understood, ‘Come get me.’

That didn’t sound much like Sam, in fact it sounded more like him, but then Sam didn’t look much like Sam with his body poised in a sexual way that Dean had not even seen in their first encounter. Dean didn’t try to analyse it too hard, he’d learnt to go with his gut on most occasions, and his cock was not so far away, so he muttered under his breath, “Whatever you say, Sammy,” and then he made ample use of the speed in his night-powered body.

Sam didn’t feel the least bit surprised when Dean powered into him, lifted him off his feet with the momentum and swept the both of them towards the back of the barn and into Kate’s bedroom. The layout was no surprise, the pack leader had clearly been a creature of habit, and Dean ignored a desk to one side made of old crates, heading instead straight for the bed. Sam slammed heavily into the less than 5-star mattress, coughing as Dean failed to calculate for the impact, but that didn’t stop him reaching up and pulling Dean’s shirt from his jeans.

When hands ran up over his six-pack, Dean paused in the half kneeling position he had over Sam and purred his pleasure, stretching into the touch. The rubs became scratches and he growled, part of him enjoying the sensation and another objecting to the submission that was suggested by allowing the edge to Sam. Sam did not take the hint, in fact, the warning seemed to spur him on, because he pushed the t-shirt up off Dean’s chest and went at his abdomen with teeth. One nip, then another, and Dean was in ecstasy, but the alpha male in his personality coupled with vampire instincts over a mortal would not allow it. Swiftly, he balanced himself, took hold of Sam’s arms and pushed him down firmly onto the bed.

Sam complained and struggled, but the anger was just another pique in the essence of Sam that was turning Dean on. He had his brother straddled, and so Dean just leant on Sam’s wrists and forced him into another kiss. Sam tried to maintain his objections, Dean could feel it in the way he shifted below him, but his brother was open and susceptible, so Dean just upped his pressure, both mentally and physically. Sam didn’t so much surrender as he did push in another direction, but that was good enough for Dean as he found his lip being bitten in a way that pushed all his buttons.

Sam was murmuring again by the time Dean pulled away from the embrace, and the sound wasn’t just in Dean’s ears, it was in his head. From the way Sam had his eyes closed and did not seem to be fully aware of reality, Dean wondered if his lover knew he was doing anything, but the effect was wantonly hypnotic and Dean set about encouraging more. He slid further down the bed, stroking Sam's body as he went, maintaining the altered state Sam had entered and then Dean added to it as, very deliberately, he parted his lips around one of Sam’s nipples and flicked his tongue ruthlessly over the hardened nub.

The way Sam flexed into the touch and moaned even louder would have been enough to tell Dean he was on the right track, but the echoes of the passionate response in his mind were almost enough to kick Dean into another realm as well. He still had not let go of the vampire and he bent the power delicately to his will as he teased Sam’s erogenous zone with his razor-sharp teeth.

“Oh God!” Sam revealed he was at least still half sentient, and the helplessness in his voice reminded Dean with a throb to his groin that he was still wearing far too many clothes.

Dean couldn’t drive Sam wild with his mouth and undress at the same time, so he did the next best thing, he shifted his attention a little above the nipple he had been ravishing, nipped hard enough to take the taste of Sam’s blood with him and then knelt up over his lover and he pulled at the shirt and t-shirt he was wearing. As Dean had hoped, the bite took Sam into a longer pique as the blood link pushed them both towards their limits.

This time, Sam did not reach to assist in the clothing removal, but his eyes did open and he was watching intently as all of the cloth covering Dean’s torso was pulled off in one go. Throwing the clothing aside, Dean smiled down at lust looking back at him and reached for Sam’s hands. There was no objection now, and a dirty smile developed on Sam’s features the like of which Dean had never seen before when he guided Sam’s fingers to his waistband. Dean leant back up Sam’s body, but holding his lower torso away from the embrace, and he went in for another kiss as Sam’s long, nimble fingers went to work on his fly.

Dean wasn’t wearing underwear, to which Sam gave his approval through a sound that Dean could only interpret as triumph and then eager hands worked him free of his jeans. Wood would have been putting it mildly, after the rollercoaster that was Sam, Dean was pumped and ready for action. When Sam’s grip slid round both their cocks and urged him down through the touch, Dean did not have much choice as automatic reaction took him grinding down against Sam’s dick. The action could have easily sent him over the edge, both mentally and physically, but Dean was made of sterner stuff, and with a loud growl right next to Sam’s ear, he reeled in his reaction, letting the eddies of pleasure hit a wall of willpower. Sam’s response was a grunt of his own, and he managed, “Jesus, you think I have mojo!”

Dean laughed, but his sound was coupled with another growl that stopped a further wave of desire taking him to orgasm.

“Mutual appreciation society,” Dean quipped, pumping his dick against Sam’s again so that his words disappeared into another wordless whine, and it was only because Sam let them go that he didn’t repeat the action.

The reason Sam had released them became apparent when Sam’s palms ran round under Dean’s pants and over his buttocks, pushing the fabric down and away. Dean went with the move as Sam sat up, still removing clothing and he rolled onto his side as his lover slid down the bed, finishing the job. Sam’s face was a picture when he pulled off Dean’s boots, apparently relishing the small amount of force required, and his look was possessive when the rest of Dean’s clothing finally followed them onto the floor.

Free of the constriction round his ankles, Dean rolled onto his back, propping himself up on his elbows and spread his legs either side of where Sam was now kneeling. It might have been taken as a submissive gesture if the power between the men had not been saying very much otherwise. There was aggression and demand in Sam’s face when he looked across at Dean, but it did not compare to the blood link that Dean owned. The vampire showed himself off to his partner, his desire, his power and his dominance. 

Sam’s skills made him more equal than an ordinary human, but when mortal faced immortal, there was always going to be an imbalance in favour of the immortal. As the older brother, Dean had always had authority, but the new dynamic had yet to be fully acknowledged. Sam was resisting it, and that just found the stubborn side in Dean and spiced his interest.

“Come here,” he tested deliberately with a leer, indicating up the bed.

Dean had indicated to his side, but Sam came right up between his legs, leaning his long body up over his reclined position, and he didn’t stop till they were almost nose to nose. Dean stared into Sam’s deep gaze for a long moment, feeling the strengths there, and the weaknesses. The hurt of his betrayal was still in Sam’s look, and Dean knew he could never fully be trusted again, but now was not a time for doldrums. Most of Sam’s gaze was hot and amorous, and dared to defy the status quo. Whether the taunt was deliberately aimed at his libido or just a test of how things had to be, Dean didn’t know and he didn’t care, all his instincts sparked at once, desire and dominance, and he pounced.

Strangely, considering the slightly hostile stance in which he had begun the moment, Sam did not resist, or even flinch when Dean hooked his leg round Sam’s and them flipped them both over, in fact, Sam rubbed wantonly up against that same leg, which came to rest against arousal. Sam was frowning as he did it, eyes closed once more, and the move was so conflicted between lust and frustration that it made Dean chuckle. Sam’s eyes flicked open for a moment and he smacked Dean hard on the shoulder for that, but almost instantly he went back to the erotic pressing of bodies.

“You want me, Sammy?” Dean decided it was time to stamp his authority.

Sam’s blue-green eyes snapped open again, and the indignant look he was being given said everything Dean wanted to know. He grinned widely: lust was going to bring Sammy under control.

“Then you do as I say,” Dean continued, and was thrown a glare as sharp as the machetes they had left in the main room.

Dean wasn’t all mastery, but in this he was going to be obeyed, and he hardened his features as he ordered, “Trust me.”

Sam didn’t look like he was willing to trust anything right at the moment, and there was clearly a nasty taste in his mouth, but he did not move away when, slowly, Dean pressed down and took another kiss. Sam parted his lips and let Dean have the access he wanted, and there was enough in the rush of emotion down their link that Dean knew he was not going to be rejected, but Dean did not press the surrender any further than he had to. It was time to give Sam what he wanted.

* * *

The last time Dean had looked down on Sam lying on the bed, it had been from nerves and disbelief that his brother had remained under his control, now it was far more complicated. Sam had not moved when Dean had climbed off him and begun looking round the room for something to use as lube, and he had only propped himself up silently on one elbow during the search, Dean feeling an intent gaze on his back as he had gone to Kate’s desk-cum-dresser. Now that stare was looking up at him with a confidence that had been missing the last time they had had sex, and also a petulance that made Dean smile again. He held out the bottle of body oil that had surprised him in one of Kate’s drawers, and waggled it at Sam. He was about to come out with a quip to accompany the discovery when Sam drew him up short, because, very obviously, Sam dropped his gaze to Dean’s erection.

The look silenced Dean with its audacity, and then the skills behind it induced anything but coherence; Sam’s face broke into a devilish smile as Dean felt the first stroke of an invisible hand on his balls and the touch made him gasp in surprise. The come on was so unique that as it ran over his dick, Dean nearly lost control, but Sam revealed he learnt fast, because as Dean flexed his hips reactively, pressure behind his balls took the edge off the moment. Sam laughed at the hasty cough that escaped Dean’s mouth and flopped onto his back, a come-to-bed curl on his lips.

As his cock throbbed with the sight lying lazily below him and his dominance piqued at the tease, Dean told Sam hotly, “I’m going to fuck you into next week and then I’m going to bite you until you scream.”

“Promises, promises,” Sam threw back, but his tone was far from the light tease his words suggested, in fact, his smile straightened and Dean was looking at raw desire.

Dean wasn’t actually sure if his brother was quite sane at that moment, but then neither of their lives in the last few days had been performed on an even keel, and since Sam’s particular brand of insanity was drawing Dean in like a moth to a flame, he put any qualms he had about it to the back of his mind and climbed back onto the bed. It was Sam’s turn to part his legs, and Dean knelt between then, running his hands over Sam’s muscled thighs.

Sam tipped his head back, his long neck displayed, and murmured in pleasure. That sound hiccupped when Dean used his stroking to push the splay of legs further apart, but he continued the rubbing over sensitive flesh and Sam did not give anything else away. When Dean added the oil to his touches, he knew Sam had slipped back into his own world, because the strange voice was back in his head, this time wordless, but Dean’s dick was getting the message of pleasure loud and clear. He ran his eyes as well as his hands over Sam’s thighs and then his balls, slowly upping the ante that was arousing Sam as well as making his own erection throb.

The Winchester boys had done the dick comparing thing during their teenage years, and Dean had led Sam through puberty, first with advice about hair growing in new places and then by lending out his Playboy collection, but he had never really admired Sam before. Men had never been his usual choice of companion, girls were easier, but after one drunken encounter that had surprised him, there had been the occasional lonely night on the road when a handsome face had caught his eye. Sam was much more than a handsome face, but that didn’t mean Dean didn’t like what he saw. His brother’s body was lean and smooth with a fighter’s muscle flexing invitingly at every touch and, as he oiled and teased Sam’s cock, he toyed with the idea of finding out what it would feel like inside him.

Still, Sam was ready for sex in a whole different way, and a whine told Dean not to dally with too much more foreplay. Sam had surprised him during their first encounter when he had revealed a penchant for force, but Dean had not forgotten, and his own dick pulsed with desire as, without warning, he ran the fingers of one hand down between Sam’s legs and pushed two against Sam’s entrance. Dean did not push too hard, he did not want to injure Sam, but he was surprised again when his lover groaned deep and low, and breached himself on Dean’s test.

Penetration begun, Dean did not hold back and he slid his fingers in fully. Sam cried out and reared, grabbing sheet, and the hit from the mortal mojo ran through every fibre in Dean’s body. He maintained the glorious reaction by twisting his fingers in situ, listening intently to the moans and the helpless way Sam panted as he was stretched. When he moved to withdraw a little, his brother whined, a wonderful sound that told Dean in this he was in charge. Sam was his, and he took his time enjoying the preparation.

Two fingers became three and Sam’s face became a picture of pain and pleasure. He writhed under Dean’s touch, pushing down on his fingers with every intrusion, harder and faster and more and more receptive, both in mind and body. Sam’s mortality was as sweet as nectar to the vampire in Dean and he revelled in the control that brought out the exotic power from Sam in waves. His teeth were aching as much as his dick, but he held back from the bite he knew would send his lover over the edge, just as he held off from his own sexual satisfaction.

Dean prided himself on being able to read his partners, and Sam was an open book. The pages were turning swiftly on their little bodice ripper and only when he was satisfied he had Sam so wild there was no opposition left in him did Dean suddenly withdraw his attention. Sam yelled almost as loudly at the removal as he had at the initial breach, but that cry became a sigh, and he collapsed flat onto the mattress, gasping and lost in the place to which Dean had taken him. 

The lines of Sam’s body glistened in the light of a storm lamp in the corner and Dean admired him once more. He didn’t ever want to let Sam come down from the high that was fuelling both his arousal and his instincts, and so Dean did not pause long. Sam’s head was tipped back in ecstasy when Dean ran his palms down his brother’s legs and, lifting them at the knees, placed them over his shoulders. He wanted Sam, all of him, and, with one slow thrust, Dean took him.

Sam’s position meant that he could not easily manoeuvre himself the way he had onto Dean’s fingers, and the growl in his brother’s throat made Dean smile possessively as he took his time about hitting the spot. Dean reached up and stroked the quickly rising and falling chest in front of him, scratching lightly as he slid home and as he hit Sam’s prostate, Sam arched his back and swore loudly.

The flat of his hand over the scratches he had just made, Dean pushed Sam back down onto the mattress and began to move in earnest. Wherever Sam was in his mind, as Dean made him groan and pant with each thrust, he began to draw the vampire to him. The voice in his head was far from coherent, but Dean listened to a message that woke every nerve ending he possessed. The power in Dean’s head was all Sam, vitally alive; he wanted him, he needed him. Monster and man, Dean took all on offer to him, driving them both towards orgasm, and there was no stopping him when he leant forward and bit into mortal flesh.

Blood hit the back of his throat and Dean drank. As he drew life from his human, Sam’s scream drowned the vampire’s senses, filling him inside and out with the agony and ecstasy that was their blood link. He came like a freight train, powering into Sam and his lover followed close behind, spiralling them both into white hot desire. It was, once again, too much for Sam, and as half a dozen objects scattered off the desk close by and an unused candle sparked into life, the mortal tensed one last time and then went limp.

Dean continued to drink a while longer, savouring the blood that took him to highs Sam would never understand, but with Sam gone from their connection, Dean drew back and, letting the vampire go, started to come down. He knelt back, withdrawing from Sam and putting his brother’s long legs back down either side of him, and then he checked the wiped expression on Sam’s face. He wouldn’t be out long, there were comforting stirrings of Sam’s unusual mind already returning to Dean’s senses. Dean reached up to the scratches he had made once more, and ran his fingers over them, then up to the bite he had made earlier on Sam’s right chest, and finally he dipped his fingers in the bloodier wound that he had made close to the older teeth marks on his brother’s shoulder.

Sam shifted at the press of digits, a still incoherent murmur coming from his mouth and Dean snatched back his fingers, putting them to his mouth. He allowed himself one last taste of his human, cleaning the blood with one lick and then he whispered, “For life, Sammy.”

* * *

Being dumped into the chilly trough of water out back of the barn had been a pretty effective way of removing the daze that Sam had been enjoying on coming round from his second petit mort. He’d swiftly reciprocated by sending armfuls of water back at Dean, who had brought them both outside stark naked, and that had led to a mock fight, which had become more sex and every time he moved Sam was now being reminded that humans shouldn’t play rough with vampires unless they wanted to be feeling it for days. 

Dean had suggested he sit it out in the truck when they had begun to clean up the barn and the local area, but Sam’s conscience had not allowed him to leave Dean to cover their tracks alone. They had moved all the bodies into the main barn, salted and doused them in lighter fluid. However, now, as the brothers stood outside the hulking old structure, Sam stood a few paces back from Dean. He had only felt the pack through Dean, but it had been enough for Sam to know that he would not be wanted in the moment where the vampire was drawing a line under that instinct.

They were all dead, no-one to come back for a further bout of revenge, and it had to be that way, but there was one monster left and Sam stared at his taut back. He didn’t want to feel guilty, these creatures had tortured them both and would have killed him without a second thought, but part of Sam knew that something was gone that Dean would never have back, and he couldn’t help the pang of culpability that gave him.

“Stop emoting, Sammy,” Dean’s tone was flat as he lit the rag on a Molotov cocktail.

Dean threw the bottle at the door of the barn and stepped back as the wood burst into flames. His brother halted level with Sam, but with a gaze fixated on the blaze before them as it quickly spread up in all directions, anger and something Sam could not interpret in his face. Sam examined that profile as it was lit by the flames, trying to understand the extra part of Dean’s gaze. He was used to his brother hiding most of his feelings, but this was not a familiar grin, or a quip to cover a racing heartbeat, it was a confusion as best Sam could judge, but about what, he could only guess.

“You keep staring at me like that, Sammy, and I just might deck you,” Dean warned, hostility in his tone and manner as he turned away from the growing blaze.

“Dean!” Sam objected, disliking the brush-off after such intimacy.

“No Sam,” Dean sounded much more certain of himself than Sam felt, but that look was still in his eyes as he glared, so it didn’t ring true when he continued, “The bad guys are dead, we did our thing, it’s over. I may fuck you till you drop, but I don’t do the group hug thing.”

Sam watched as his brother then spun on his heel and stalked off towards their truck. Dean’s shoulders were set in a solid line and the way he was stomping told Sam he was going to have to work on getting more than dismissal from him. Yet, he held back as Dean leant on the hood of the vehicle, looking tired, and gazed across at where the sky was beginning to lighten in the east. Sam wanted to talk, sort things out, but sense told him it was going to have to wait, at least until they’d got home, cleaned up and slept away the fatigue that was making his bones ache. He smiled as he thought about sharing a bed properly with Dean and considered another interpretation of the group hug to which he could not see Dean objecting.

When Dean squinted at the pale horizon, and picked up a pair of dark glasses and the battered old cowboy hat from the hood of the truck where they had left it while finishing up, Sam’s smile slipped into a grin and he decided his brother was not the only Winchester who could crack jokes.

“Hey, Dean,” he called lightly, strolling over to the truck, “there’s something we have to get sorted.”

Dean grimaced, clearly expecting something heavier than that which Sam had planned.

“I am not going round with you looking like the undead Lone Ranger, so as soon as we get back, those windows,” he pointed to the truck, “get a tint.”

Sam grinned widely as an indignant frown crossed Dean’s face, and the loss in his brother’s eyes flickered away for a moment. Of course, the hat then went firmly onto Dean’s head, and Sam was fixed with a big brother stare. Some things hadn’t changed, never would, and Sam was glad of that. So, they had a few issues to face: they’d deal, the Winchesters always did. They were alive, everything else could wait.

Sam looked at Dean, Dean looked at Sam; for just a moment, the humour dipped and Sam saw the difficulties of the future acknowledged in his brother’s gaze, but then he was comforted by Dean’s dry wit as he was told, “Get in the truck, Tonto, I’m driving.”


End file.
